


Lady of Winterfell

by Nix_X



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Fluff, Jealousy, Moving On, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nix_X/pseuds/Nix_X
Summary: Lady Sansa Stark welcomes the Queen and her once-husband to Winterfell to start rebuilding after the war. However she soon starts to realise that not only does everyone have their own demons to fight, she might not have entirely vanquished her own .I will be updating tags s the story progresses





	1. The Lady of Winterfell needs to project strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic stems from my frustration with the season 7 characterisation of the Stark sisters and Littlefinger's continued importance in Sansa Stark's life. I hope you enjoy :)  
> Huge thanks to everyone who has left a comment or a kudos!

Sansa Stark stood at the entrance of Winterfell, ready to receive her guests. Flanking her on either side were her siblings, Arya and Bran, while Nymeria had positioned herself behind her beloved mistress. A welcome party consisting of the few lords who had arrived early and the inhabitants of Winterfell, stood behind them, all sober and dressed in their best in honour of the Queen’s first official visit.

As soon as the war with the White Walkers had been fought and won, Daenerys Targaeryan and her army had returned posthaste to King’s landing to confront and subdue Cersei. Jon had accompanied her with the best of the remaining Northern soldiers, leaving Sansa behind to rebuild Winterfell and the battle ravaged North.

To everyone’s surprise Arya had stayed behind, claiming that with Brienne leaving with the Southern army someone needed to stay and protect Sansa. Sansa had been most surprised of all as she had witnessed first-hand her sister’s thirst for vengeance against Cersei but she suspected that Bran had something to do with Arya’s unusual behaviour. She had seen them huddled together whispering on more than one occasion.

Sansa sighed. Despite her deep gratitude to the Seven for giving her Arya, Bran and Jon back she sometimes felt as if she hardly knew them. The bitterness she kept clamped down surged back at the reminder that while Arya, Bran and Jon had forged an understanding again, she was left out in the cold. Again.

It wasn’t their fault, she chided herself. If she couldn’t understand them, then there was something wrong with her because they seemed to love and understand each other just fine. There was something wrong with her because she couldn’t see the headstrong, imperious, brave little girl she had known in this dangerous, mysterious young woman. Because she couldn’t see the patient, kind, loving, younger brother in this aloof, impenetrable stranger. She was the one who couldn’t see the young, nervous, diffident boy that she had disliked on principle in the prematurely old, careworn King of the North. And she wanted them all back.

She wanted everything as it had been, she wanted the castle to once more ring with the sounds of them laughing and squabbling and playing while Mother and Father had watched from the balcony.

Because she no longer knew how to love this new family of hers. She no longer knew how to care for anyone, she thought with a bitter smile. She had dreamed of coming back here, to the place where she had been happiest, to be reunited with her family but she was starting to realise that the Sansa Stark who had lived here no longer existed. She was starting to realise that she no longer remembered how to live without spending every waking minute in mortal fear, without plotting and planning and struggling to stay alive. She was starting to realise that she could no longer walk without a hand on the dagger she kept hidden in the folds of her skirt. She was starting to realise that she could no longer sleep without checking that the doors and windows are barred at least thrice and never without a candle burning.

She was starting to realise that she had forgotten how to love. Perhaps Littlefinger had taught her too well, she thought with a shudder.

The sound of a horn blowing brought her back to earth. Casting a glance to the side, she found Arya regarding her with a raised eyebrow. Giving her sister a reassuring smile she turned her gaze on to the approaching guests.

The Queen rode ahead on a horse for a change while the magnificent wings of her dragons cleaved through the air above her relentlessly and mercilessly. An apt ride for Daenerys, the dragon queen, Sansa thought with a twist of her lips. She had arrived in Westeros and conquered all that lay before her in much the same way. Relentless and merciless. Yet her own brother had fallen in love with her and her…Tyrion Lannister rode by her side as befitted the Queen’s Hand.

Tyrion Lannister. Her once-husband. Only now with the benefit of experience and a few years did she realize and appreciate the kindness with which he had treated her. Dwarf he had been, ugly he had been, but he had done things no other so called knight had ever done for her and for that she resolved to thank him when he finally arrived. It wouldn’t do to be overly friendly of course, not only might she alienate the Northern Lords by appearing to enjoy the company of a Lannister, it might also give him the wrong idea .The Lady of Winterfell did not intend to tie herself to the dwarf Hand of Daenerys Targaryean again.

If she was being honest with herself however, during her ‘marriage’ to Ramsay Bolton she had once or twice wished with all her heart that she was still Lady Lannister. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile.

Now they were closer. The gates were thrown open and the next minute the horses swept in coming to a halt a few feet away from her .Soldiers and wagons loaded with provisions poured in behind them filling Winterfell’s courtyard. Sansa permitted herself a small smile. The Queen wasn’t quite the thoughtless spoilt royal she had expected, her bringing provisions with them indicated that much. She darted a glance at Maester Fruel who answered her with a relieved smile.

Slowly the Queen alighted and she sank to her knees hoping and praying that everything was in order. The last thing she needed was an imagined slight blown out of proportion a la Cersei. Jon might claim otherwise but what difference was there between this queen and the one that had just died, apparently by the hands of her own brother/lover?

“Your Grace”

The piercing violet eyes fixed their gaze on her for a second causing Sansa to feel…uneasy. Behind the queen she could see men dismounting, laughing and talking which was in direct contrast to the last king’s arrival which had been as sombre as a funeral until King Robert had finally laughed. Now she could see Jon patting his horse and laughing at some jest Ser Davos had made, the golden haired Jaime Lannister exasperatedly tugging a protesting Lady Brienne’s horse’s rein as it suddenly turned skittish and-she could see Tyrion Lannister’s mismatched eyes staring directly at the Queen and her. The expression in them unsettled her. He looked part assessing, part worried.

“Rise, Lady of Winterfell” Daenerys said, moving a step back with an enchanting smile appearing on her face. Sansa fixed her court smile on her face as she stood up, slightly bowing her head in deference while she took stock of the Queen.

Daenerys Targaryean. So young to have done so much. And so, so beautiful, heartbreakingly beautiful. The silver-gold hair that was pulled back in an elegant braid, cascaded down her back, shimmering and glowing. Her face was all delicate beauty, from the mysterious eyes to the firm mouth. And yet Sansa got the impression that this exquisite, fragile looking young woman wouldn’t have the slightest difficulty in opening her mouth and ordering Winterfell and everyone in it burnt to the ground. She swallowed. Perhaps Daenerys Targaryean wasn’t so like Cersei after all. Cersei had been an enemy she could fight. This one … was different.

“I have heard so much about you from Jon, Lady Sansa” the queen continued, her smile turning mischievous. Jon chose that moment to come up behind them and Sansa found herself enveloped in one of his bear hugs so reminiscent of father. She closed her eyes in relief at feeling his solid warmth, unharmed and alive. She might not be on the same page as him always but he was her brother and she loved him.

“I have missed you Sansa” he grinned as he finally let her go before turning to the little woman who had been eagerly awaiting his arrival.

“And you!” was all he got to say before Arya launched herself into his arms sending him stumbling back with a shout of laugher before swinging her round and round while Bran watched on with a serene smile. Sansa bit back a smile and quickly darted a glance at the Queen, waiting for her response to this piece of impropriety.

Fortunately, she was laughing at the sight. She wasn’t the only one, Sansa realised with a mortified blush. Half of the men who accompanied her were laughing. One in particular caught her attention, a young, handsome boy next to Ser Davos who was gazing at Arya tenderly. She frowned.

“Jon is very fond of his family” the queen said turning to her. For a moment, Sansa’s brain whirred trying to reach the underlying meaning of that statement. Was it a threat, was it a warning or was it a genuine banality?

“He is” she replied cautiously, causing Daenerys’s eyes to linger on her face with an emotion she couldn’t understand. It could not be pity certainly, why on earth would the Mother of Dragons pity her?

However the queen’s voice had gentled as she spoke her next words. “I hope you will not think me presumptuous Lady Sansa, for I have brought some of my own servants and some provisions for our stay here. I do not see why Winterfell should alone bear the cost of what is sure to be an expensive and perhaps fairly long stay”

Sansa smiled then, her first genuine smile. “It is most thoughtful your grace” she replied quietly.

Daenerys gave her a regal nod and swept on to greet the remaining members of the welcoming party. Watching her exchange a few words with Bran and laugh with Arya before moving on to greet the Lords, Sansa had to grudgingly concede that she was very good at the job. The combination of her regal bearing and graciousness was a powerful one.

In the meantime,she had greetings to make of her own.

“Lady Brienne” she smiled as the Lady of Tarth knelt before her. Sansa smiled as pleasantly as she could.

The last time she had seen her faithful knight, she had sent her off to King’s Landing in a manner that was both arrogant and ill bred. Lady Brienne had been a faithful friend and she deserved better. She noticed that Jaime Lannister’s eyes were fixed on them sternly although he made no move to leave his brother’s side. His brother who had now lost interest in the proceedings and was teasing Podrick with the help of Bronn.

“Lady Sansa. I hope you have been well” Lady Brienne replied, her eyes filled with concern. Touched at the question and the devotion she could see, Sansa responded in kind, asking about Lady Brienne’s own health and that of her father’s who still ruled at Tarth. When she finally moved on to the others she couldn’t help but say “I have missed you Lady Brienne” causing the lady to blush and fall back, shaking her head.

 _“Showing that you care is showing that you are weak”_ Liitlefinger’s voice echoed in her head. Sansa shook her head. Stop. She could trust some people, she _could_ , she told herself defiantly. She could almost hear him sneer.

For a quarter of an hour she greeted the steady stream of visitors, secretly marvelling at the queen’s ability to do the same so easily. One minute Daenerys was conversing in grave tones with Lord Royce while the next she was tickling the seven year old kitchen boy. Sansa’s own cheeks ached from smiling.

Finally the line came to an end and she was about to congratulate herself on a job well done when she found herself face to face with Tyrion Lannister. She hesitated.

“Lady Sansa” he said finally with a shadow of his mischievous, kind smile.

“Lord Tyrion” she replied with an answering smile feeling unaccountably happy to see him. “It has been too long”

He chuckled. “Perhaps”

There was an awkward silence. Sansa blinked. The one thing she remembered about her- him, was that he talked. A lot.

“Have you been well my lord?” she ventured at last, annoyed to find her voice sounding timid. She was the Lady of Winterfell and she needed to project strength.

“Strangely enough, I have” he quipped, making her relax a little. He hadn’t changed entirely. “A bit bruised and travel weary but alive which makes me far healthier than at least a quarter of our armies”.

She winced. She had known that they had suffered huge losses of courses but she hadn’t thought the number to be so high.

“Forgive me” he said after a beat. “That was not in the best taste”

“No”

He looked at her, confused.

She went on ruthlessly. She was the Lady of Winterfell and she needed to project strength. She couldn’t let her guard down. She couldn’t let the Queen’s Hand continue to think that she was a wilting little girl.

“Battle and death don’t scare me anymore my lord” she said defiantly _. Never show weakness, for you cannot trust anyone to not exploit that weakness._

She might have known this man a long time ago but she couldn’t trust him, anymore than she could trust anyone who was not her family.

To her annoyance she found that he was staring at her with an expression that was hauntingly similar to the one the queen had worn. Why were they all looking at her like this?

No matter, she had a prepared speech to deliver.

“My Lord Tyrion” she began, ready to express her gratitude for all the help he had rendered her.

“Lady Sansa” he inclined his head with a small smile before bowing and walking away, leaving her staring after him.

He hadn’t stayed to talk to her. He hadn’t stayed to hear her speech. He hadn’t acted as if they had once been something like friends. He had been polite and kind and respectful and utterly detached.

He hadn’t seemed to care at all.

They should all be going inside now, Sansa thought, suddenly tired and feeling unaccountably empty. The snow was falling faster and if they stood out here longer, they would all end up as frozen icicles. Giving a nod to Maester Freul, she glided towards the queen, intent on shepherding her and Jon inside.

She was the Lady of Winterfell and she needed to project strength.


	2. The Lady of Winterfell cannot lose her composure

Sansa narrowly avoided the piece of pie Arya had thrown at her and chuckled. For a moment she was tempted to go down from the dais and join in the fun, perhaps even launch a projectile of her own at her little sister, she thought with a mischievous smile.

_Never appear anything less than composed!_

She leaned back immediately. The Lady of Winterfell could not lose her composure or be seen playing and laughing like a normal girl. It would weaken her position.

The Queen had declared a week of celebration before they got down to council meetings and real work and her proclamation had been met with enthusiastic approval from all sides.

So here they were on the first mild winter’s day they had, celebrating.  Winterfell’s courtyard had been decked out, a large buffet had been conjured up, tents for games had been set up, barrels of ale were being rolled out, an archery competition was being held in a corner and the men had decided to entertain themselves in the absence of minstrels with ribald songs and stories.

The Queen too appeared to have been infected by the general mood of merriment. She was mock glaring and laughing while Jon mercilessly teased her inability to handle the cold, pretending not to hear the loud and very vulgar songs that were emitting from the corner which was currently functioning as a makeshift pub. To no one’s surprise, Bronn was the unquestionable star of the crowd gathered there.

 Her own sister was laughing and engaging in a mock bout with Podrick Payne as the boy Jon had introduced as Gendry Waters cheered her on. Tyrion was laughing and jesting with Ser Davos and the Queen’s handmaiden while the Hound looked on unsmiling, Lord Varys was listening with a serious face to something Lyanna Mormont was saying and even Lord Royce had deigned to smile.

“You should join them”

Sansa gave a brief smile but did not respond to Bran. He wouldn’t understand.

“So should you” she said lightly.

“I am joining them the best way I can” he said, pointing to his chair. “You can go down, talk to people, and dance a little. You are become too cold, sister”

She pressed her lips together but didn’t say anything. How easy it was for him to say, she thought bitterly.

 “You are still Sansa Stark” he said quietly.” Do not follow the lessons that you were taught, sister. They were not all right”

Sansa kept her silence. It would not do to snap at her brother when Lord Manderley, Lord Royce and Lord Norrie were sitting to her side, eager for a hint of discord to pounce on.

_Never appear to lose control of your emotions, you will no longer hold respect._

“Giantsbane!”

She looked up startled, to find Jaime Lannister striding towards the archery stands. An involuntary chuckle which she quickly bit back escaped her as she noticed the cause of his ire.

Tormund Giantsbane had apparently taken it upon himself to instruct an unwilling Lady Brienne in the finer points of archery .He currently stood with his arms around a mortified and clearly uncomfortable Lady Brienne, one hand on her elbow and the other over her fingers clasped on the bow.

“Unhand the lady!” Jaime spat, coming to a halt in front of them.

“Ser Jaime!”

Tormund paid him no notice. “Oho it’s a one-armed greybeard, gentlemen!” he boomed, cheered on by his fellow wilding soldiers and Jon? Sansa smiled as she saw a giggling Daenerys smack him in the head while Tyrion and the Lannister faction booed.

“Ser Tormund!”

Nobody seemed to be paying an attention to the fiery red Lady Tarth’s agonized interruptions.

Jaime Lannister gritted his teeth.

“Greybeard? Fine words from a lumbering oaf. Unhand the lady instantly or you will be sporting a stump to match mine”

The crowd bayed. Sansa watched, a little stunned as Arya and her baker friend howled like wild animals. She was about to get up and walk over in an effort to instruct her in the behaviour expected of young ladies when she saw Tyrion slowly make his way over to them. Leaning down he whispered something in the Gendry boy’s ear.

Relief mixed with consternation filled her as the next howl from Arya was smoothly blocked by the boy’s hand over her sister’s mouth. Who was this boy and what was he doing touching her sister in such a manner?

“He is Robert Baratheon’s bastard” Bran said quietly. She turned to look at him and was startled to find an almost fond smile on his face. From the corner of her eye she saw that the insults were flying fast and thick now between the two men while Lady Brienne had stalked off in a huff leaving the crowd to cheer them on.

“He is behaving improperly” she said through her teeth.

“Leave her be” Bran said gently. “He makes her happy and more like the Arya of the old. Now is not the time to worry about propriety”

She kept quiet although the drumming in her chest increased. “It matters. All of it. It matters to the lords and the people. They keep Winterfell standing and us safe. You would not understand”

He looked at her in a measured way for a moment. “But what is the point of keeping Winterfell standing if we lose ourselves in the process?” he asked finally, his voice very gentle.

She didn’t answer but drew her furs around her. It was getting cold.

In the courtyard the fight was in full swing.

“Will a lady so fuc…beautiful prefer a young, vigorous, giant of man “ Tormund flexed his muscles “Or a decrepit, one armed, limp dick?”

Jaime’s fist barely missed him. “Refer to the lady in such a manner again wildling, I will cut that tiny little cock of yours off and feed it to the dogs”

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. Dogs. Dogs, great, big slavering dogs. Dogs chasing her as she and Theon ran and ran, sobbing for air. Dogs who howled outside while Ramsay Bolton had pushed her down and –and…her nails bit into her skin.

“Enough”

The cool voice cut through the screaming, grabbing everyone’s attention and preventing her from falling into that pit she thought she had filled up.

She looked up.

He was addressing the crowd although his eyes were on her, a curious expression in them.

“Gentlemen! This is no way to behave in front of the ladies”

The Queen whooped.

They all turned as one to stare at her. Sansa noted that Jon was shaking with laughter while the Queen had hastily clapped one hand over her mouth.

Tyrion’s lips twitched. He was fond of her, Sansa realised with something of a shock. She had known that he was loyal to his new Queen but this was more than mere loyalty. He was actually fond of Daenerys. Somehow, the realisation worsened the cold weighing her down.

“I propose a way to settle this argument. A man’s way” he went on.

Tormund and Jaime glared at each other looking like they wanted nothing more than the other’s head.

“A drinking game!”

The crowd roared as a new barrel was rolled out, Bronn started playing The Dornishman’s wife while Daenerys Targaeryan laughed and wiped the gleeful look of Jon’s face by promising a kiss on the cheek to the victor.

Sansa took in the scene in front of her. It was amusing, she knew. It also hurt her because she knew she never could be a part of it. The queen could whoop and laugh like a child occasionally because she was Daenerys Targaeryan with an army and two dragons and she could never be hurt by anyone.

The Lady of Winterfell needed to remain the Lady of Winterfell because the only way she would never be hurt was if she held on to power.

And, Sansa swore, she would never let anyone hurt her again.


	3. A conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has commented.Seriously,it means a lot.  
> I will probably be posting a chapter a day. While most of the fic is in Sansa's POV some bits will be from different perspectives to give an idea of how Sansa appears to them.

Sansa sighed as she made her way to the stairs. It had been a long day and she wanted nothing more than to go up to her room and rest. She swore that as soon as she finished her discussion with Maester Freul on the arrangements made for their guests, she would go up and rest.

The sound of people talking at the foot of the stairs made her still. She was in no mood for conversation right now.

“Bloody long day eh? People talking and screaming and squabbling over land. Need a good fuck to wash it all away. Coming with us?” a voice she recognized as being Bronn’s cackled.

“Not today Bronn”

She didn’t move. He sounded tired, tired but amused.

“Oh come on! When have you ever turned down an offer to bury your head in between a woman’s legs?” There were a few chuckles.

“Pod here is coming, aren’t you Pod? They will probably give us a discount”

“Bronn, I am tired, I am sweating and I need to wash spittle of my face as I made the grave mistake of sitting next to Lord Flint. I am in no mood to accompany you to a brothel”

“Flagging so soon, little brother?” Jaime Lannister’s lazy, sarcastic voice floated up to her ears.

“We all get old dear brother” Tyrion shot back. “Speaking of which, was it the same man who called you greybeard I saw following Lady Brienne to the sparring pit?”

A muffled snarl and the sound of something clattering to the ground indicated Jaime Lannister’s hasty exit.

“He so wants to fuck her” Bronn said , easily disregarding an indignant Podrick’s spluttering.

“I would advise you to not say that in front of him Bronn. He is still maintaining that he is only interested in preserving Lady Brienne’s reputation”

Another round of chuckles.

Finally Bronn seemed to accept defeat.

“Fine then. Go back to your stupid books” he laughed. “Maybe we can drag the Waters boy out with us”

“For your sake, do not try” Tyrion said pleasantly. “I happen to know the King has asked Gendry Waters and Lady Arya Stark to work together on planning how to rebuild and replenish the damaged armoury .I am certain that if you were to walk in and demand Waters to join you on an expedition to the local brothel, you would be looking at the wrong end of a sword.”

“Gods no” Bronn said lazily although there was an undercurrent of respect to his words. ”I have heard stories about that girl and I am in no mood to become part of a pie”

“They would spit you out at the first bite, cunt” The Hound made his first surly contribution to the conversation.

Tyrion laughed. “I don’t doubt that Clegane. Bronn, another time perhaps”

Sansa stood very still, her breath unusually fast. She clenched and unclenched her hand on the bannister until she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Panicked, she tried to retrace her steps but it was too late, he had reached the top.

He stared at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and the widened eyes.

“I take it you heard all of that”

She nodded mutely.

Tyrion stared at her some more, shifting awkwardly until he came to the decision that there was nothing more to be said on the matter.

“May I escort you? To-wherever you were going?” he finished with an embarrassed laugh. She silently placed her hand on his arm. “My chambers” she replied, ruthlessly dismissing Maester Freul.

They walked for some minutes in silence. Sansa was too busy pondering what she had just heard while Tyrion wasn’t in a mood to stir the hornet’s nest.

“You are good at this” he said suddenly making her look at him, a question in his eyes. ”Ruling. Politics. You handled yourself admirably at the council meeting today”

She smiled- a small, tired smile. ”I am not sure if I entirely enjoy it” she confessed. ”But” her face hardened “If it means that I keep my home safe and unharmed then I am willing to do whatever it takes”

“I don’t doubt it” he said quietly. “But I think you do enjoy it”

She stopped. “I would never hurt my people” she blurted out, feeling confused and on edge. A strange sort of panic gripped her. Was he implying that she was becoming Cersei? Because…no.

He looked at her, surprise colouring his eyes. ”That is not what I meant my lady. I merely meant you perform your job as King’s Counsel and Lady of Winterfell in an excellent manner. You even gained Varys’s approval”

“Truly?!”  


She clapped her hands over her mouth horrified at the spontaneous, excited cry. What must he think of her, to behave in such an unguarded fashion!

Fortunately he was smiling, a pleased little smile much like the ones he had had back in King’s Landing. “No matter” he laughed, “It is actually lovely to see a little of the Sansa I knew and I am sure Varys will be thrilled to know how much his opinion is valued”

“My Lord” she nearly moaned, mortified. To have gained the attention of Varys who made kings and ruined dynasties was indeed satisfying but that in no way excused her behaviour. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel as bad as she ought to especially as the man standing next to her seemed to enjoy the gaffe rather than be disappointed by it.

“I am not supposed to do that” she confessed shyly.

“Why? Will some old goat’s teeth fall off if he sees an unguarded version of his Lady?”

She choked back a laugh. It would not do to be heard laughing at one of her lords being called an ‘old goat’. She needed to change the subject.

“Do you not still frequent brothels my lord?”

It was his turn to stumble. Her hand went down involuntarily to hold him upright but he waved her away. He seemed to have been hit by a fit of coughing and she idly wondered if the cold had made him sick already.

“er..hmm..I.. well occasionally my lady. Not today”

Her movements slowed down. “Occasionally?” Her voice was colder now.

He nodded, unaware of the effect it was having on his companion. “Sometimes. When the work gets to be too much, it helps me clear my mind. I shouldn’t be talking thus to the King of the North’s sister but I am sure you are not a tattle-tale”. He sent her a teasing smile.

Sansa said nothing but marched ahead quietly until she reached her door. With a nod and a brief smile she left him to enter her chambers.

 

 

8****************************8

 

 

Tyrion Lannister peeled off his cloak and looked at the bath filled with steaming hot water with delight. Gods, he needed this.

He started undoing the buttons of his upper tunic, going over the day’s events in his mind when a knock at the door disturbed his reverie. He swore but grudgingly walked over to do his duty.

“My Lady?” he stared at the woman on the opposite side of the door he had just dragged open. She stood tall and straight but nearly vibrating with some inner tension, her blue eyes fixed on him sternly.

“My Lord”

Tyrion waited. There had to be something else for her to come down to his chambers and look at him like he had just been apprehended for thieving. Unfortunately while her blush spread, no words were issuing from her mouth.

“My Lady?” He wondered if it was the fact that he was wearing only a shirt and breeches that was upsetting her so. But no, she had seen him like this before, hadn’t she?

“My Lord” she started again, this time clearly meaning to continue “I am afraid I must advise you against visiting our brothels”

He stared. Then blinked. Then stared again.

She flushed even harder. “There are diseases” she squeaked.

“What?” he asked feebly, wondering if this was a hallucination. He knew he wasn’t drunk because he hadn’t touched wine today. Wait, had he?

“Diseases” she repeated firmly. “My maid tells me that the women carry diseases. You might not have heard of such things. I- it wouldn’t be wise for you to end up…getting disease. The Queen wouldn’t like it” she trailed off, her face the same colour of her hair.

Tyrion stared. It had never once occurred to him that he would be standing in a hallway having this conversation with Sansa Stark. He briefly contemplated telling her that he was well aware of the existence of such things and took measures to prevent it but he quickly dismissed the thought. The poor girl was still very much an innocent and would likely faint at all the things he could tell her. Not to mention risking a slow and painful death by Jon.

“Thank you my lady” he replied, touched by her concern. “I was not….aware”. A white lie is no lie, he told himself fiercely.

She relaxed although the blush didn’t leave her face. With something resembling her usual grace she nodded and then catching her skirts, almost fled leaving Tyrion staring after her.


	4. The Lady of Winterfell stands alone

Sansa smiled as Arya feinted and then lunged, neatly tripping Ser Bronn and landing him flat on his back. She knew it wasn’t the most ladylike of behaviour to be seen fighting and that too with a minor knight, but she couldn’t help but be proud of her little sister. The rules be damned, she would be proud of her little sister.

She wasn’t the only one. Lady Brienne was laughing her great laugh and clapping her hands enthusiastically while Tyrion’s squire and soon to be knighted Podrick followed her example. The only other man present was Jaime Lannister and she resolutely avoided looking at his face.

“Bloody wench” Bronn muttered from his position on the ground causing Arya’s grin to widen.

“Got you well, didn’t I?” she asked, sheathing her sword. “Not a very impressive performance considering your reputation”

Her audience laughed while Brienne fondly ruffled her hair. Bronn groaned and pushed himself to his feet, making straight for the pitcher containing wine.

“She is right Bronn. Perhaps I have been paying you too well” Jaime Lannister snickered as he neatly beat the said man to the wine. Disregarding Lady Brienne’s disapproving stare he poured himself a glass, only to have it snatched away by Bronn.

“You are good” he said, nodding at Arya while Jaime huffed. “But you can be better. You know the rough and tumble work, now you need to learn the fancy stuff. Get a better teacher”

Lady Brienne glared at Bronn while both Jaime and Podrick developed a sudden interest in the ground. And a case of twitching mouths.

“I Beg Your Pardon?”

Undaunted at her icy tone, Bronn shrugged his shoulders and gestured to Arya who was wiping sweat off her face. ”Look at her. She knows how to fight like those Braavosi fancy dancers, she knows how to use a knife though I definitely don’t want to know how, she knows her way around a sword and with practice she may even defeat someone like me in a real fight someday. The girl knows how to fight to keep alive.”

“I fail to see the problem Ser Bronn” Brienne remarked coldly, the insult to her skills as an instructor obviously having hit hard. Podrick and Arya were grinning along with Jaime Lannister although there was a fond look in the latter’s eyes.

“She can be better. She needs to learn the fancy stuff, those feints and complicated passes. You are good too but you are more of a brute strength person, no offence”

“None taken” Brienne gritted out. “But pray tell me, where am I to find such a paragon?”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be the best in the kingdom before he got old? Oh and some bugger also chopped off his hand” Bronn said coolly, waving at Jaime whilst taking another swig of the wine, straight from the pitcher.

There was silence. A few pairs of eyes flitted towards Sansa but quickly looked away. For her part a cold fury had gripped her at Bronn’s… _insolent_ suggestion and she was suddenly seized with an urge to throw every one of them out of her home instantly.

“Arya” she said instead, her voice sharper than a freshly whetted knife. “I wish to talk to you”

Thankfully her sister didn’t take exception to her tone and and nodded although the rest of them wandered away murmuring some excuse or the other. Good. It was her sister she wished to talk to .

“You came to watch” Arya said with a slow smile that both irritated and gratified Sansa.

“I did” she said, walking towards her.” I wanted to see if you were as good as you claim to be” she teased, making Arya give her a mock glare.

“And?”

She stopped in front of her sister, looking down at the face that had changed so much but still possessed those wide, grey eyes. Father’s eyes.

“He would have been proud” she said quietly. Just for a moment Arya’s face twisted. However it soon went back to being the cool mask she usually wore.

“It is good to see you down here” Arya said after a beat, stumbling over the words as if she wasn’t sure of them. “You are always shutting yourself inside the castle”

“I have a lot of work” Sansa said wearily, trying to keep the impatient note out of her voice. She had just had this argument with Jon and she was in no mood for an encore.

Arya remained silent causing Sansa to clench her fists. Only two minutes in and this was already going badly.

“I am surprised you didn’t knock Ser Bronn down when he made his detestable jest” she said jokingly trying for a lighter tone. She was met with a pair of confused grey eyes. “What jest?”

Sansa’s fists tightened at the memory. “The one about the Kingslayer tutoring you. As if a Stark would consent to take help from Jaime Lannister”

“You talk to him politely enough” Arya said carelessly.

She made a scornful noise. “I talk to him politely because he is now an ally of the Queen and the brother of her Hand and it behoves us to treat him with a minimum of respect. You don’t imagine I welcome his presence in Winterfell after what he did to Bran, do you?”

Sansa waited for Arya’s reply only to realise after a couple of minutes that none was forthcoming. She stared down at her sister, a growing fear beginning to roil in her stomach.

“Arya?”

“He talks to Bran you know”

Sansa stumbled.

“That…man forces his company on my brother who cannot walk because of him?” she asked slowly, rage and disbelief coating her voice. They had entered the main hall now and Sansa had to sidestep to avoid the children playing there.

Arya shook her head. “Bran doesn’t mind. He asked to meet Bran first but now they talk every day. I also think he is forcing Bran to ride using the contraption his brother designed although Bran doesn’t seem very interested in the prospect. You know how Bran is now”. She shrugged.

“And Bran tolerates this man’s company?” she asked incredulously. To think, to think- she searched in vain for words to adequately express her emotions.

“Bran is  different now” Arya replied staring at a group of children, a note in her voice that suddenly reminded Sansa that her sister had seen and done things no child her age should have. She looked down, observing the lines on Arya’s forehead, the three grey hairs that had no place on her smooth brown head and worst of all, the too old eyes with the odd look in them.

“So are you” she said softly. “The Arya I knew would have been screaming for Jaime Lannister’s head”

Arya gave her a brief, mirthless smile. “I still wish I could have had Joffrey and Cersei. But the Kingslayer is a different matter. If Bran bears him no grudge then I don’t have a reason to bear him any. It’s his life to take, not mine”

Sansa snorted. “So we must all forgive him then, just like that, despite the terrible things he did”

“We all did terrible things during the war” Arya murmured, her eyes fixed on a young girl, a faraway look in them.

“I didn’t”

Arya darted a sceptical glance at her. It was only for a second but that scornful, direct gaze made Sansa flush. For some reason Lysa Arryn’s face danced before her.

“I did what I had to do to survive” she said stonily, conscious that her heart was pounding too fast in her chest, nearly making her dizzy.

“So did everyone else”

They didn’t speak for some minutes. Sansa tried to sift through the various tangles in her head while Arya continued to stare at the little girl.

“He fought for Jon” Arya said finally. “He fought beside Jon and killed Cersei himself. If Jon and Bran don’t mind him, then I don’t mind him”

“Jon” Sansa remarked bitterly. “You always thought the sun shone out of his eyes. I suppose his opinion is the only thing that matters to you anymore now, isn’t it?”

“Yes”

Perhaps it was the way Arya had said that one word, so simply yet so absolute and final. Fury mingled with hurt suddenly overwhelmed Sansa.

Her own sister couldn’t care two pennies for her opinion. She sometimes wondered if Arya still cared for her at all. She had a list of people she had to kill, she had killed several already, yet one word from her brother was enough to renounce hatred to a man belonging to a House which had nearly destroyed her family. For Arya, Jon would always come first.

Sansa suddenly felt very alone. Jon was now King in the North and his allegiance was to Daenerys, his wife and Queen. Arya was always his. Bran lived in a world of his own.

She had hated Littlefinger but atleast he had been firmly on her side, albeit for his own disgusting purposes. Now she had no one. All she had were nights aching for her parents, cursing the day they had left for King’s Landing, solely because she had been a silly, foolish girl. There were times when Sansa wished with all her heart that she could go back in time and shake her thirteen year old self thoroughly until she gained some sense.

“I am here to tell you something” she said in clipped tones, going straight to business. There was no point in wasting time trying to build something with her sister. Arya didn’t need her.

“The Northern Lords have started talking about your marriage. Naturally I would never permit you to be married off so early and neither would Jon but we could think about a betrothal. There are some proposals I think you should consider”

To her surprise, her sister remained unmoved. She had expected a more dangerous reaction.

Arya finally tore her eyes away from the children and turned to face her, a queer little smile dancing on her lips.

“That’s not me” she said gently before striding away, leaving a gaping Sansa behind.


	5. The night is no longer dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion and Sansa goofing off ! Or you know, having a serious conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed the tags a little and updated the rating because Ramsay is a horrible excuse for a human being.Also...er-this story will be longer than I originally anticipated it to be. Sorry? :)  
> Thank you so much to all of you amazing people for your reviews, critiques and encouragement.

_He tore at her clothing as she sobbed into the pillow, his sweaty, slippery hands pinching and bruising her soft skin with obvious glee. She struggled to not fight back, forcing back the vomit, knowing that the penalty for retaliation was a thousand times worse. Behind her she could feel Reek staring at them, trembling although she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. Not tonight, not like this. She couldn’t anymore. Ramsay’s hands finally reached his intended destination and in one swift motion she was spread bare as he thrust into her dry channel making her scream even as tears poured down her face._

_The wet mouth came up to her ear and she shuddered as he whispered “Save your voice my sweet, I have all night”_

Sansa woke up, a silent scream leaving her mouth. Gasping for breath, she scrambled to push away the covers, the weight of them suffocating her and sending her back to the nightmarish hell she had escaped. Nearly tumbling out of her bed in haste, she sank to the floor and drew her knees up, trying to calm her breathing.

It was going to be one of those nights, she thought grimly as soon as she was able to breathe normally. The kind where she couldn’t allow herself to sleep for the visions that came with sleep would nearly kill her.

Picking up a candle and tying her robe more securely around her she made her way out, careful to avoid the bedchambers. She had no wish to meet anyone, especially another man at this hour of night. All she wanted to do was get to the one place where she had always felt safe.

Unfortunately it appeared to be already occupied.

“My Lord?”

Tyrion Lannister looked up from the scrolls he had been poring over, his face both confused and wary. He stared at her blankly for some minutes as if he couldn’t quite recognize her until his face creased into a tired but welcoming smile.

“Lady Sansa” he said softly. “For a moment, I took you to be a ghost”. The mischievous look made its way back to his eyes. “A very beautiful one “

She couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh at the outrageous flattery. Giving him a mock scowl, she walked inside what had once been her father’s library, a sanctuary then and a place to come running for comfort and love. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could still feel him here, his warm solid presence, the curses he would bite back with a guilty look at her when he knocked over his ink bottle and the smell of apples and hay.

“This was my father’s study” she said reminiscently, her eyes wandering over the large table and the chair which had fit Ned Stark to perfection but towered over the man sitting in it now.

He cleared his throat. “I know. Your brother offered it to me for my work. Does that…does that displease you?”

She considered his words. Did it displease her? The thought of another man, a man belonging to the House that murdered her father, sitting in his place should have filled her with rage but oddly enough she couldn’t muster up any sort of emotion. Her forehead wrinkled.

Tyrion who had been watching her warily evidently drew his own conclusions from that. “My apologies” he said, gathering up his scrolls and books “I should not have intruded”

“No”

He stopped.

“I-please. I do not mind” Sansa stammered, angry and annoyed at finding herself flustered. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, she was merely giving Tyrion Lannister permission to use the library as was part of her duty. “It’s all right. You-you do not feel like an intruder” she blurted, internally wincing.

_The Lady of Winterfell must carry herself with poise and grace_

He slowly lowered himself back into his seat although the wary look didn’t leave his eyes. Strange eyes, she thought suddenly. Apart from the obvious mismatch they were somehow warm and calculating at the same time. Eyes you could trust but also eyes which saw too much.  Littlefinger had the same calculating glint but where his gaze had made her shudder on more than one occasion, Tyrion’s  had always made her feel safe.

“I am honoured” he said carefully, watching her in much the same way one would look at a wild wolf moving towards them, unsure as to whether it was going to bite or lick. “And I thank you” he continued, “But I am certain you should be sleeping and not wandering the halls of Winterfell at this time of the night, Lady Sansa”

“I cannot sleep” she said simply, moving to seat herself on the fur covered pallet that her mother had made her father install to prevent him from falling asleep in his chair. “It appears, neither can you”

He raised his glass, gods did the man never stop drinking, acknowledging her hit. “I have work my lady” he replied. “What is your excuse?”

She stilled. Mentally she cursed herself for letting the conversation go down this path. What was she to tell him now? I cannot sleep because I dream of the Bastard Bolton? No. The Lady of Winterfell cannot exhibit weakness. She searched for a lie and opened her mouth.

“I do not wish to tell you”. The words were out before she could even process them. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had done the one thing she should not have done and now she had either offended or intrigued him, neither of which she was prepared for.

He was looking at her now, scrutinizing her, studying her, probably taking notes, she thought bitterly. Tyrion Lannister hadn’t become the most famous dwarf in the country for nothing. She braced herself for the barrage of questions that was sure to come her way.

“Very well”

It was her turn to stare. That was it? No clever quotes, no jokes, no probing questions? He had turned back to his scrolls and was now frowning over one of them, the hand holding the quill making its way to the ink pot.

“You don’t care to know why?” she asked, perplexed at his apparent disinterest. From what she remembered, he had always been interested in everything.

He looked up at that. A small smile appeared on his face briefly, so briefly that she almost missed it. ”I want to know why only if you want to tell me” he said, his voice gentle but strangely resonant. “I would never press you to do anything you did not wish to do already”

She sat motionless as he went back to his work, the line of her back as rigid and straight as the metal spikes that lined the walls of Winterfell. A strange sensation unfurled in her chest, something she could not quite put a name to. She felt warm, she finally realised, warm and yet for some reason very close to tears.

“Thank you my lord” she whispered.

“Tyrion”

She nearly laughed. The last time he had said that to her, it had been their wedding night and she had been a child of four and ten.

“Thank you Tyrion” she repeated, looking directly into his eyes which were now dancing. She could tell from the look that he too was thinking of that night.

“Quite a day, that” he said, confirming her suspicion. She dimpled back at him. “I am surprised you remember my lord” she said demurely. “As I recall you were thoroughly drunk for most of it”.

The surprised bark of laughter that escaped him made her smile widen. There was something thoroughly satisfying about upstaging the master wit himself. She watched him with satisfaction for a minute before doing something she had longed to do from the moment she had walked inside the room.

“I believe you have drunk enough my lord” she said firmly, moving to take the pitcher and glass away from his surprised hands. “I do not think it wise to drink so much”.

“Many would agree” he replied, although his eyes followed the wine longingly. “However since I have stopped putting a premium on my life I must request that you give that back to me, my lady”

“Sansa” she said, coolly moving the wine beyond his grasp while draining the glass herself. “If I am to call you Tyrion again then you must revert to calling me Sansa. As for your life, it may not mean much to you my lord but the realm needs you, the Queen needs you and to throw it away thus is nothing but selfishness”

Tyrion sighed but leaned back with no further comment, apparently having resigned himself to the loss of his wine. He looked older, Sansa realised, much more serious and solemn than the witty, quick witted man she had met all those years ago who could talk his way out of anything. The mocking, carefree expression which he had invariably worn back in King’s Landing had disappeared and in its absence his face looked gaunt and drawn.

“Are you well, my lord?” she asked hesitantly, ruthlessly quashing the voice inside her head that tried to tell her that Tyrion Lannister’s health was none of her concern. She may be Lady of Winterfell now but there had been a time when she had been Sansa Stark and this man had been kind to her when others had shied away.

“Just tired” he mumbled drowsily, his head lolling back against the cushioned seat. ”Too much to do”.

She frowned, her eyes absently tracing the pattern on the embroidered floor rug. The almost staggering amount of work that was ahead of them did not mean that he could kill himself trying to accomplish everything. She looked up to make the same point only to find him watching her with a look of amusement.

“There are times when you almost look like the girl I used to walk with in the gardens of King’s landing” he said softly. “Rare, but it does happen. This appears to be one of them”

Sansa flushed at his words, feeling embarrassed but strangely glad. She wasn’t certain as to whether it was a compliment or an insult or just a statement of fact and she found that she didn’t want to know. She would have to go back to searching for hidden meanings once the sun rose, she was too tired to do it now.

He was still watching her, she realized and feeling unaccountably shy she hastily tried to change the subject.

“What do you think of this plan advanced by Jon to pool the grain of the Northern Houses and distribute it equally amongst us?” she asked abruptly. Tyrion Lannister was a man with experience governing and his opinion carried weight.

The intent look vanished and he sat up resuming the cool, capable demeanour he normally wore during the Council meetings. “I believe it to be a good idea” he said briskly.” Not only do we manage to feed as many people as possible, the act might also bring the Houses together for a more enduring, united North”

Sansa’s lips tightened.

“It also means that Houses like the Umbers and Karstarks get to benefit from the King’s generosity despite having betrayed House Stark in the most foul way possible” she bit out, knowing that there was much good sense in what Tyrion had said but unable to stomach the thought that the men who had betrayed her family, the men who had actively participated in her brother’s death were now getting off scot free.

“Yes” he said gently. “A difficult thing to digest. But we must remember, they did fight in the Great War with us. Besides the men who carried out the betrayal are all dead and only their children survive”

“They fought in the Great War to survive as did we all” she replied acidly. “And while the leader might have changed, their men who joined forces with the Boltons remain. What sort of a message does it send when we do nothing to punish them for that? That we are weak? We might as well hoist a flag that says we are open to attack”

“It sends a message that House Stark is a merciful and honourable one” he countered, although his voice remained gentle. “It shows them that it is a House worth pledging allegiance to and Jon is a King worth following”

Sansa kept quiet. She had seen the consequences of honour and loyalty when Joffrey Baratheon had given the order for her father’s head to be chopped off. Mercy was just another word for weakness to some, she thought bitterly.

“I cannot lose Winterfell again” she said finally, her voice low and exhausted. She was bone tired and all she wanted to do was sleep which she couldn’t because Ramsay Bolton wouldn’t leave her alone even after what remained of his corpse had rotted.

Fortunately Tyrion seemed to understand. He was looking at her in a way that suggested that he wished to say something of significance but for some reason he didn’t open his mouth. She looked at him, puzzled.

“It’s nothing” he shook his head with a smile. ”You do not need to worry. Your brother is married to the dragon queen and any man who wishes to march on Winterfell must be suffering from a strong desire to turn into broiled meat”

She let out a sleepy giggle at that. ”Perhaps” Sansa said, though she still held to her opinion. The Targaeryans had already been defeated once before. And what if the queen were to decide that she no longer had any use for Winterfell? Alliances and allegiances changed as Sansa had learnt only too well. You could count on power only if you wielded it.

A yawn escaped her causing her to blush while surreptitiously pinching herself awake.

 “You should sleep”

She shook her head. Not that. She couldn’t face that.

“I am not tired” she lied, hoping that he wouldn’t catch it. From the look on his face she had failed.

“I promise you I will wake you up if…” he hesitated “-if you look like you need to be woken up”

She froze. He knew about the dreams.

Tyrion hurried into speech at the sight of her face. “I couldn’t sleep well myself after Joffrey’s trial and the-“he trailed off waving his hands aimlessly to convey something which she assumed was a reference to his father’s murder. Yes, that certainly seemed like something that would cause sleepless nights. And from her own experience, she knew bringing it up like this wouldn’t have been easy.

“Thank you” she said quietly, touched by the gesture. ”But I am afraid it’s not just a question of won’t. I can’t fall asleep now”

It wasn’t a lie. On these nights her brain teemed with horrifying images preventing her from falling over the brink of consciousness, terror and fear holding her back no matter how tired she was.

“Yes you can” he said smoothly. “You are going to go to sleep because you are about to be treated to a reading of The Rogue Prince by Tyrion Lannister, famed bard and scholar and you are not to listen to a word expressed by Bronn on that point. Or for that matter, by anyone else”

She let out a startled laugh. “You are going to sing to me, my lord?” she asked, her eyes dancing at the notion although a part of her was screaming at her to consider the consequences if someone were to find them thus engaged. The lack of sleep must have addled her brains because the idea only added to her amusement.

“Oh no” he said, his own eyes twinkling back at her.” You would be better off listening to a raven croak than me sing. However I have been assured by my niece that I read very well”

His niece. Her smile dimmed just as his own face fell as he realized what he had just said. His niece was dead and so was his nephew and so were her brothers. Most of the people they had loved were dead.

“Sleep “he said quietly as he opened the book. “Daybreak is only a few hours away and there is no use dwelling on the past”.

She lay back on the pallet obediently with no real expectation of following his command. Yet as his deep, soothing voice described to her the adventures of the dashing yet hotheaded Prince Daemon, the love he bore for his niece Rhaenyra and the battles he fought for himself and on her behalf, she could feel her eyes drooping, the gentle rhythm lulling her to sleep. For some reason she couldn’t find the terrors that usually awaited her and she struggled to open her eyes, unwilling to trust this piece of luck only to be hushed back into sleep.

The monster wasn’t there anymore, she realized. It was her last conscious thought before she fell into a blessed darkness.


	6. The spider interferes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varys ships Sanrion while everyone agrees Lyanna Mormont is amazing

The meeting had finally come to an end. Sansa however did not relax her rigid posture. She would sigh in relief only when she reached the privacy of her chambers.

“My Lords” Lord Varys was speaking now. “We have prepared drafts of the peace treaties and land agreements which will be further modified as per your suggestions. Each of you have been given a copy and the Queen looks forward to listening to your opinions the next time we meet. If any point is in doubt, you may summon either me or Lord Tyrion to assist you in understanding the terms. We remain at your service, my lords”. He sat down with his usual unctuous smile while Sansa regarded him with amusement. She was certain that Varys could have any of these lords executed quite easily if he wished to do so.

“Then I would like to request your counsel after this meeting is dispersed, my lord” Lyanna Mormont’s voice rung out clearly as she frowned over the sheaf of papers she had just unfurled.

Sansa bit back a smile as she saw the expressions on the faces of the other lords. While all of them wanted nothing more than to go back and rest after a gruelling eight hour sitting, none of them were willing to be upstaged by a child of eleven. Even Jon was staring at Lady Mormont balefully while the Queen was regarding her as if she was some rare, fascinating object.

Varys on the other hand seemed to be much too happy for a man who had just been given more work.

“I would be honoured, my lady” he said, beaming while tilting his head in deference.

Tyrion Lannister who had been watching this exchange with trepidation sank back in his chair with an audible sigh causing the assembled to break out into laughter and earning himself a frown from Lady Mormont.

“What?” he asked in a much too innocent tone, spreading his hands wide. “I confess, I am a man who suffers from a terrible weakness. I need to sleep occasionally to live”

More laughter. Lady Mormont gave a haughty sniff.

Sansa however was turning over an idea in her head nervously. Should she? She darted a glance at Tyrion and blushed at what she was about to do.

Ever since that night in her father’s library, she had only caught glimpses of Tyrion, usually during these meetings and that had…that had been disappointing. Talking with him had been the first time in what seemed to be forever that she had been able to let go of restraints and say whatever she wished to say, to another person.

It had been nice, she thought, her cheeks reddening.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. He had offered her his friendship once and she had turned it away. Now the boot was on the other leg. Her cheeks turned an even darker red.

Before she could think things through, the words were out of her mouth.

“Lord Varys, I believe I will follow Lady Mormont’s lead. I too would like to finish this business today and I think I will need counsel too”

Almost blushing at her audacity, Sansa kept her eyes resolutely on the table although she did catch sight of Lyanna Mormont beaming from the corner of her eyes.

“Very well. Anyone else?” Jon asked, the tone of his voice making it clear that he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions if the answer was yes. Sansa nearly giggled while the Queen went ahead and did it. Thankfully for Jon, the answer was a resounding no.

“Then we will break for today” he said relieved and one by one they all streamed out of the hall leaving the  four of them behind.

Sansa pretended to busy herself with her copy, picking up the first piece of parchment and running her eyes through it.

“Varys, you may assist Lady Sansa. I will devote myself to the excellent Lady Mormont who sets an example to us all”

Sansa’s eyes shot up only to watch Tyrion give her a short bow and an even briefer smile before proceeding to walk towards a stern looking Lady Mormont. Varys, true to his nature betrayed no surprise but proceeded to walk towards her, favouring her with his usual serene smile.

“My lady”

“My lord” she managed, hastily moving to the side to make room for him.

He had been avoiding her deliberately, she realised picking up her parchment with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. Naturally. She had probably given him a disgust of her with the way she had behaved that night. What lady makes the Queen’s Hand read to her? She should have left the moment she had seen him sitting there instead of interrupting his work and wasting his time. Never again, she told herself fiercely.

Varys  had by now seated himself next to her. “Shall we start?” he asked holding up his own copy. She gave him a shaky smile and nodded. Work. She had a duty towards her House. She didn’t have time to indulge in hysterical fancies.

Fifteen minutes in, she was struggling with the set of rules defining the eastern border of Stark holdings when she looked up to find Varys looking over to where Tyrion and Lyanna Mormont sat with something akin to admiration in his eyes. Lovely. Even Lord Varys had grown tired of her company.

“I apologize if I am boring you my lord” she said coldly. “But I am afraid I must ask you to explain this paragraph to me”

“Not at all my lady” Varys replied, the beaming smile back on his face. “I cannot conceive of more delightful company”. She nearly rolled her eyes.

“My Lord, you are if reports are to be believed, the most intelligent man in the country” she said impatiently.

He bowed. “You are too kind my lady”

“I cannot boast of your brilliance but I possess a few wits myself. I would be therefore grateful if you could talk to me in plain language, instead of indulging in needless and ridiculous flattery. I assure you I will not take offence even if you were to call me an idiot”

Varys looked at her for some seconds, his face as unreadable and pleasant as ever. She sighed and turned back to her scroll.

“As you wish, my lady”

Sansa closed her eyes in relief. Thank the gods, she was so tired of lies and false courtesy.

“Thank you” she said sincerely, meeting his still pleasant but now more direct gaze. “Now tell me the truth, Lord Varys. Am I boring you?”

He chuckled. ”No. But I must confess I was distracted at that little scene”

She looked over reluctantly. Tyrion and Lady Mormont appeared to be arguing about something vigorously. Lady Mormont was sitting with her back to Sansa but she could see Tyrion’s face and it was wearing an expression which appeared to be a cross between exasperation and unwilling admiration.

“I believe the little lady has seized upon the one point which is not-er- quite favourable to Bear island’s interests” Varys murmured, his eyes fixed on them.

“You sound happy” Sansa observed. “As the Queen’s adviser who drew up the treaties shouldn’t you be more upset Lord Varys?”

“I really should” he admitted regretfully. “Unfortunately I can’t bring myself to care”.

She let out an involuntary laugh at his outrageous statement while his eyes twinkled at her. For a moment, Tyrion’s eyes flew up to meet her own before quickly dropping. She mentally shook herself. Nonsense. What did she care if the Queen’s arrogant Hand looked at her?

“It appears you too have an interest in that argument or should I say, in a participant of that argument?”

Her head whipped around to face Lord Varys who was regarding her blandly. She attempted a frown but the effect was spoilt by a horrifyingly ill-timed blush.

“I do not understand you, my lord” she said defiantly. Varys tsked. “And yet moments ago you were asking for honesty”. He shook his head and gave her a mock-disappointed look.

“Very well” she said after a pause. “I shall tell you what I think if you tell me why you were interested. A fair exchange”

To her great dismay, he smiled. With a sour feeling she realised that this was probably what he had been aiming for all along.

“My thoughts were simple my lady” he said, once more looking over to where their companions sat. ”I was admiring the quite impressive Lady of Bear island. In my opinion, never have I seen a child more poised to grow into a great ruler and I have seen a lot of rulers”

Sansa smiled. “She is impressive” she acknowledged. “I must disagree with you on one point, however. She seems to me to already be a great ruler”

Varys shook his head. “She could do with better advisors” he said, the slightly disgusted expression on his face making her laugh again.

“Advisors like you, Lord Varys?” she inquired playfully. Feared spy master he may be, but he too possessed the gift of setting people at ease. She stubbornly pushed away all thoughts of the one other person she knew who boasted of the same talent.

Varys heaved a deep sigh. “Alas my lady, I am already pledged to another queen” he said sadly, drawing a strangled laugh from her.

“My lady?”

“It’s just” she sat up, choking back another giggle, “Only you could be an advisor to a Dragon Queen with two dragons, an awe-inspiring army and who holds sway over the entire country and yet yearn to advise a child of eleven who rules a tiny little island”

Varys chuckled. “Well when you put it that way, it does sound ridiculous my lady. It must be old age catching up to me but I confess, I see in that child the queen of my dreams”

Sansa snorted at the thought of anything dulling Varys’s mind but couldn’t help but ask. “Why her?”

Varys smiled. “Because Lady Mormont always puts her people and her realm first” he said simply. Sansa stared at him confused. “Doesn’t every one?”

It was his turn to snort.

“I am afraid not my lady. Every king or potential king I have ever seen tended to put their interests or the interests of their house above the interests of the people they were duty bound to serve and protect. Even the good ones”

“Even the current Queen?” She kept her voice low. She had no wish to be executed for treason.

His smile became even more benevolent. ”I am a loyal subject of our Queen who I deem to be a great and wonderful ruler”

Which meant that she wouldn’t get a straight answer. She sighed and picked up her scroll again.

“But if I were to hypothesize about what some …people, might say, then they would probably say that while she is a good, strong queen who possesses the gift of inspiring and commanding her people and who genuinely cares and wishes to do well by them, she still has a lot to learn before she can be called a good ruler. She does not yet know how to govern you see, for her own ambition and interests tend to trip her up”

Sansa listened with a frown. “You supported her”

“She is definitely an improvement over my previous employers”

Sansa gave another involuntary laugh. “Lord Varys. I begin to see why you are so feared”

He bowed. “I am but a humble servant of the Crown, my lady” he said, the bland smile back on his face. “Now I believe it is your turn”

Sansa froze. She had almost forgotten their bargain. For a second, she contemplated backing out but quickly dismissed the thought. Starks of Winterfell honoured their pledges.

“I was…concerned about Lord Tyrion” she answered grudgingly.

“Oh?”

She gritted her teeth and went on. “He appears to be actively avoiding my company. I wondered if I had unknowingly displeased the Queen’s Hand”. Now would be a good time for the Gods to smite her down, she thought dully.

“It is strange” Varys replied in an innocent tone which did nothing to fool her. ”He appears to be thinking the same of you”

“Me?” Sansa asked, immediately sitting bolt upright.

“Yes” Varys murmured, his eyes shining with concern “I believe _he_ thinks he has overburdened you with _his_ company”

“I-that is-I assure you-preposterous-I -so-“Sansa spluttered as Varys looked on with great interest.

“You may inform Lord Tyrion that the very thought is ridiculous my lord” she said firmly as soon as she managed to get a hold on her thoughts. Varys tsked again.

“Oh but would it not be better if you did so directly my lady?” Varys asked solicitously, inspiring in Sansa a strong desire to smack his bald head with a boot.

“No”

“No?”

“No.”. She had made her decision and it was final. “Now I believe we have work to do”

They had hardly finished the first scroll when Varys lifted his head to give her an unusually direct look. “My Lady, in my long experience I have found that if I wish to gain something it is better to seek it out than wait for it to come to me. If I wait, it might slip away”

Sansa held his gaze for a few moments before swallowing and nodding assent.

“Excellent” Varys said happily, the round fat face beaming “Now let us to move on to the next item”

8****************************************8

 

 Tyrion sighed as he and Varys made their way down to the dining hall.

“Long day?”

“Lady Mormont will not accept our terms” Tyrion groaned while Varys couldn’t help but give a small, proud smile.

“A very smart lady” he said, earning himself a glare.

“I daresay” his companion grumbled “Too exhausting for me however. I fail to see why you chose to speak to Lady Sansa and pushed me into the bear’s den today, considering your admiration for the little lady. From what I could see, all you seemed to be doing was making Sansa laugh”. There was an unusual edge to his friend’s voice which made Varys’s smile grow.

“Oh, I had something to confirm” Varys replied calmly, ignoring his friend’s confused look. “Which reminds me, you have been working too hard over the Southern divisions and I believe you deserve a respite. I suggest you move to working on the rebuilding efforts of the Northern lands. A much easier job”

“Varys, asking me to work less?” Tyrion asked suspiciously. “What are you up to now, you old spider, you?”

Varys’s smile grew even more benign. “Nothing at all my lord” he said in the sweetest of voices.


	7. The Lady of Winterfell is momentarily replaced by Sansa Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and your wonderful reviews:)

Sansa took a deep breath and twisted her suddenly sweaty palms. This was the single worst idea she had ever had.

_Never be ruled by your impulses, for they could destroy everything you have gained_

She nearly laughed. Yet here she was standing outside her father’s library contemplating an extremely silly course of action. Perhaps Cersei had been right. She was weak. So weak that not all of Littlefinger’s teaching had driven the silly little girl called Sansa Stark out of her.

She closed her eyes. This was stupid, stupid, stupid and she needed to leave before someone saw her. Its just-she clenched her fists.

She longed for…someone.

She was so tired. Tired of being the Lady of Winterfell, tired of spouting polite platitudes, tired of always reining herself in, tired of being the perfect lady, tired of second guessing every statement, tired of searching for a hidden meaning in everything that was done and said around her, so very tired and yet- she couldn’t bring herself laugh and jest with someone like Jon and Arya or even hold a conversation like Bran. She was tired of being alone but she didn’t want that to change.

The only man who seemed to understand why sat in that room.

He would think her a silly fool. What else could he think? The Lady of Winterfell walking in and asking if she could share the library with him, gods, even thinking of it made her embarrassed beyond belief. No, she would turn around and go back to her solar instead of behaving like a pathetic little girl.

She was about to do so, when she heard the sound of footsteps coming her way.

“Wench, I promise you, I did not hit him!”

“Then why is Ser Tormund’s nose bleeding?!”

“I don’t know, plenty of people must want to hit the bastard”

“Only one with blood on his knuckles, you dimwit!!”

“…so maybe I did hit him, does it really matter-Oomph!”

“And now I hit you!”

Sansa panicked as the sound of footsteps came closer. The last thing she wanted was to be found loitering outside his brother’s study by Jaime Lannister. Looking around wildly she did the only thing she could to escape.

 

 

 

Tyrion looked up in surprise as a flustered Sansa Stark tumbled into the library and slammed the door shut behind her.

“Sansa?”

“Shhhh” she said fiercely, pressing her ear to the door. He stared. Right. That was enough wine for today.

“Are we under attack?” he inquired politely, closing the book in front of him.

“What?” she whispered distractedly, her attention focused on listening to whatever was behind the door.

“Under attack” he clarified, pouring himself another glass and walking towards her. On second thought, the problem seemed to be that he hadn’t had nearly enough wine to deal with this. “Are there people or white walkers or monsters of a different description coming to kill us?”  


“No, it’s your brother” she said absently, still listening intently to whatever she was listening.

Tyrion blinked. And took a swig of his wine.

“I have always heard and seen that Jaime can have quite an effect on women, but one running away from him is a first” he confessed, now  peering to make sure that _she_ wasn’t drunk.

She scowled. ”Hush” she whispered again.

He gave up and went back to giving his attention to his delightful goblet of wine. Wine wasn’t confusing, he mused, wine wasn’t temperamental, wine was wine and he loved it.

“I love you” he crooned to his glass where the red liquid remained disappointingly silent in response to his heartfelt declaration.

It had quite the opposite effect on the other occupant of the room who snatched the glass away angrily and marched over to the window where she emptied both the goblet and the jug. An anguished howl indicated that someone else had been standing in between her and the ground but the Lady of Winterfell wasn’t one to pay attention to such trifles.

With complete indifference to her victim’s plight she slammed the window shut and turned to face him, her eyes glowering at him.

“I didn’t do it” he blurted. He hadn’t slept the previous night, his head ached and he was in no mood to be hauled over the coals.

She frowned. “Do what my lord?” she asked sternly.

“Whatever it is that you think I did”

Her eyes narrowed. Apparently he had just steered his horse away from a swamp to end up at a cliff edge. Excuses, excuses, he needed excuses, he thought frantically.

“It was Varys’s fault”. He had no idea why she was here but when in doubt, blame someone else. His dear father would have been proud.

“I am here to ask you for a favour, my lord” she said coldly, the tone of her voice making it clear to Tyrion that he could either give her what she wanted or voluntarily go to Jon and ask him to make up a room for him in the kennels.

“Anything” he said, grateful that he wasn’t at least in store for a tongue lashing. Although Sansa would never resort to such violence, even in speech. She would be cold and controlled and formal and at the end of it her victim would be drowning in despair.

For some reason she was blushing now.

“Yes?”

“I- it is most presumptuous of me, my lord”

“Tyrion”

“It is most presumptuous of me, Tyrion!” she snapped before promptly turning brick red in colour.

His lips twitched. A flustered Sansa Stark was a rare sight indeed. It did things to his …head. And to his cock. Gods, he was a lecherous bastard.

“Perhaps it would help if you were to tell me what it is that you want” he said gently, drawing her down to sit on the pallet. Luckily she didn’t resist. Whatever she wanted was clearly playing havoc with her emotions and he was a depraved little man for enjoying the sight. She looked so different from the cold, serious woman who sat in on the Council meetings and who bore no resemblance to the girl he had once married.

“I beg your pardon!” she gasped, clearly horrified at her momentary lapse of courtesy. He scoffed at that. “Believe me my dear, I have heard worse. My beloved sister used to address me fondly as the ‘hideous beast’”

That seemed to help restore her calm. She looked at him steadily before announcing “Your beloved sister my lord, was a cunt”

Tyrion went stock still.

“I am drunk aren’t I?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse. The apparition in front of him, for it obviously wasn’t Sansa Stark, stared back, confused.

“I- I don’t think so my lord” she said doubtfully.

Tyrion frowned. “I must be my lady. I could have sworn you said the word cunt”. He watched bemused as she transitioned from brick red to magenta.

“Forgive me my language my lord” she muttered “I only meant that your sister wasn’t a – very nice person”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “No need for apologies my lady, she was definitely a cunt. I was merely…surprised. It appears you picked up a thing or two from the Hound”

She wrinkled her nose and he found himself studying the phenomenon with great interest. Fuck. Thank the Seven, Bronn wasn’t here otherwise he would never have heard the end of it.

“You wish to ask me a favour” he prompted her gently.

Sansa took a deep breath. “I was wondering if I might also sit here during the day”. She swallowed. “I would not seek to disturb you, it is just that my solar is over the kitchens and the noise makes it difficult to carry out my work”. The flushed cheeks had now turned pale.

“I am insulted” he said after a beat causing her to look up with shocked eyes. She was Tully all through, he thought with the appreciation of a connoisseur, the glorious blue eyes being only one of the numerous desirable Tully attributes she had inherited. The high-waisted dress only served to emphasize another _very_ desirable attribute. Seven Hells, he needed a whore.

“I wouldn’t have thought that you needed to ask” he said. “This is your sanctum after all. I should be the one asking permission”

She shook her head shyly. “I do not wish to be a hindrance “

“You wouldn’t be” he replied quietly. “I assure you, nothing can disturb me. However I would advise you to talk it over with your family for the gossipmongers could make much out of this”

Instantly her face hardened. ”I assure you, I don’t tolerate gossip about myself and everyone I employ knows by now to not bandy my name about unnecessarily”

Looking at her stern, cold face, he was inclined to agree that no servant would dream of crossing her.

“Then I believe we will be seeing each other more frequently in the coming days” he smiled. “For now however I must leave you, I need to give some instructions to Bronn”

“Br-Bronn?” she asked, her voice faltering.

He stared at her nonplussed. “Yes, Bronn. My, well I suppose you might call him friend-for-hire. You know Bronn. He joined me as a sellsword?”

“Bronn could take some time to get ready my lord” she mumbled, redfaced.

He raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?” he asked slowly.

“The wine I poured- er- might have splashed him a…little “

They stared at each other for a second before bursting out laughing.


	8. The Lady of Winterfell meets the Kingslayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry but my next updates will be irregular and not daily. Really sorry about that but college is a little hectic right now. I promise I will try to update as fast as I can.  
> Thank you so much to all of you guys for the reviews and the kudos's . You guys are wonderful! :D

Sansa walked briskly along the corridor, going through the preparations for tonight’s banquet in her mind. Queen Daenerys had decided that several weeks of hard work deserved to be appreciated and she had insisted on throwing a celebration for all those involved in the rebuilding efforts, even the common soldiers. Luckily winter was coming to an end making the notion feasible although Sansa couldn’t bring herself to approve.

 It wasn’t that she couldn’t see the merits of the idea. Some amount of merrymaking could lift the spirits of the people and lend more energy to the rebuilding efforts.

However provisions were low and they needed to make it through spring and summer for the harvest. She remembered the conversation she had with Tyrion on the subject.

_Sansa was curled up on a chair in the corner of the study, going through the castle’s household accounts. He was sitting in her father’s chair poring over a map of sorts spread out on the table. Luckily only the Small Council had met today, leaving the day relatively peaceful._

_“What do you think of this idea of the queen’s?” she asked, her face creasing into a frown as she saw the total figure at the bottom of the list. Sansa was penny pinching in every way possible and yet they still kept exceeding the amount she had set aside for the household expenses._

_He laid down his quill and leaned back. ”It has its good points” he said cautiously._

_“Can we afford it?” she asked worriedly. “Will the food stores last till summer at this rate?”_

_He was looking down at the table, deep in thought. “We might have to import grain from the Free Cities” he admitted._

_“The prices would go up drastically” she said , horrified._

_He shrugged. “The Crown will have to keep it down then by paying for it from the Treasury and then selling it at reduced rates to the vendors”_

_She pursed her lips. Running into debt wasn’t a solution she approved of. They could only pay it off if the next harvest was good._

_“Did you talk to the Queen about this?” he asked suddenly. She shook her head. “I talked to Jon” she said reluctantly._

_“What did he say?”_

_“What he always says” she said dully. “That he would take care of everything and I wasn’t to worry over it”_

_He gave her a reassuring smile. “Jon loves you very much and I believe he is worried that you are burdening yourself with cares. He means no harm”_

_“I know” she said tiredly. She did know. She might not get along very well with her family but her love for them and their love for her was unquestionable._

_“I talked to him” he said after a moment’s silence. “Both of them. While they agree with the concerns raised, they both believe that the people need this enough to risk the shortage. And I agree with them. We could all do with some cheering up”_

_She sighed. “It appears that we are throwing a banquet then” she said, answering his lascivious smirk with a mock scowl._

Sansa came to a stop at the steps leading down, her attention caught by a lone figure dressed in grey, standing on the edge of the castle parapets. Arya, she realised. What in god’s name was her little sister doing up here?

Checking her impulse to call out to Arya, Sansa studied the slim, straight figure with narrowed eyes, an uneasy feeling building in the pit of her stomach. Arya appeared to be staring into the distance, her face serene while her grey eyes held a distant, faraway look in them.

“Lady Sansa!”

Sansa turned startled, only to be confronted by the sight of Jaime Lannister making his way towards her. She swiftly moved to check his advance. The last thing she wanted was to let her sister know that she had been up here.

“Ser Jaime” she said in as low a voice as she could manage, “How may I help you?”

He looked confused at his reception but wisely chose not to question it. “I would like to ask a favour of you” he said, a wary look on his face. She sighed. This would have to wait.

Casting another troubled glance at Arya, she nodded. “We can talk more freely in my solar my lord, please follow me” she said, starting down the stairs.

 

 

8**************************************8

 

 

Jaime forced himself to not flinch as Sansa Stark’s cold blue eyes raked over him, making no secret of her less than friendly feelings towards him. He had always known of course that the Stark girl detested the very sight of him but being alone with her made that fact so obvious as to set him squirming.

Strangely enough, he understood her dislike. If he had been in her position he probably would have hated the man, Jaime Lannister too. After all, he had as good as chopped her brother’s legs off.

“I believe you have a favour to ask?” The impatient, bored tone made it even clearer that she didn’t appreciate him taking up her time. So he didn’t.

“I understand Lady Brienne has been put in charge of leading the patrol squads” he said, going straight to business. Neither he nor she were interested in exchanging meaningless pleasantries after all.

“She asked for the charge” Sansa replied, without the slightest change in her tone.

Jaime scowled. Of course she had. Brienne of Tarth for some reason suffered from an excess of duty and honour which inevitably led to her making insufferably foolish decisions like this. Jaime was strongly considering the possibility that Lord Selwyn had dropped her on her head at birth. It could also explain her hideous nose. No matter. He would put an end to this nonsense.

“With all due respect my lady, I think that is a bad idea”. He gave her his most winning smile, the one he had been informed did wonders on women of all kinds.

“With all due respect my lord, I fail to see how it’s any of your business” she replied coolly causing his smile to immediately disappear. Naturally, nothing worked on this cold, haughty woman who ruled her House with an iron fist. So much so that even her own brother, King though he may be, referred to her before making decisions concerning House Stark.

She was watching him now, her eyes as hard as flint.

“I don’t believe she is the best person for the job, my lady. A Northern soldier would be a better choice, for he knows the terrain better”. He found himself pressing his one working hand against the golden stump, hoping against hope that she would agree.

The war was over but the last month had seen an increase in raids on unsuspecting travellers and unguarded common folk. The raiders left as they came, quickly and silently, leaving behind no one alive and no clue as to their identity. Some speculated that they were rogue soldiers and deserters. Some said they were rebels from the Houses that hadn’t supported the Targaryean Queen and her consort, the King in the North. Some even said, perish the thought, that they were groups of stray wights who had escaped destruction in the Great War.

Tyrion had advised sending patrol squads out to search for these raiders and for some reason his wench had decided that she was the best person to lead such a group. His nose wrinkled. Even the argument that she would be forced to be gone for at least a month hadn’t shaken her.

“I disagree. Southerner she may be, but she has spent a great deal of time serving me here in the North. I believe she is well equipped to face this challenge”

Jaime gritted his teeth. Was there anything he could say to make this frigid creature unbend?

He opened his mouth to try another excuse when he found himself being unceremoniously cut off.

“Ser Jaime”

He closed his mouth.

“I have work to do so please do not waste my time. Why is it that you want Lady Brienne to stay?”

Jaime’s own eyes hardened. His standing amounted to nothing now, he no longer possessed his family’s once great wealth and holdings, but he was still Jaime Lannister of House Lannister and he would be damned if he let this girl brow beat him.

“That would be none of _your_ business my lady” he bit out, hoping to unsettle her. If she wanted to play then he would give her a game.

To his disappointment, she didn’t so much as flinch. Apart from a raised eyebrow he could find no other signs of any emotion whatsoever.

“Then I think it best you leave my lord. I am turning down your request”

He stared at her, his hands curling into fists, impotent fury racking his body _._ Gods at this moment she looked so much like…No.

He could never think of that name again. Never. Because if he did, then he would have to think of golden hair and soft caresses, whispered praise and the wet clasp of her sweet cunt around him and he would have to think of the once beloved eyes glowing with a sickness, _mocking_ him even as her pulse grew weaker and weaker under his grip until it had sputtered to nothingness.

No.

“I am a one armed cripple who is useless right now with no wars to fight and Lady Brienne is my only companion.” He spat, frantically pushing away everything and anything resembling conscious thought. He found that he was breathing harder and from the look in her eyes he knew she had noticed, although her expression did not change.

“It is a weak, childish desire my lady, but I would like to not lose my only friend”

She sat up, her answer already written on her face.

“Your feeling are of no importance to me my lord, what matters is the safety of my people”

“Please”

He knew he was begging but he couldn’t help himself. In this strange, new world ,Brienne was the only person who kept him sane, who heard what he had to say even if he didn’t say it out loud and who understood a fraction of what was going through his head. Tyrion did too, but as the Queen’s Hand he was far too busy to spend time with Jaime although to his credit, his little brother did try to give as much comfort as he could.

For a few minutes she said nothing. Finally she sighed.

“Very well. I will inform Lady Brienne that she is to continue overseeing the castle’s defences”

Jaime let out a relieved breath.

“On one condition”

He tensed again.

“If my sister Arya wishes it, then I would like you to instruct her in the finer points of swordplay”

He sat up straighter, baffled at her request. Whatever he had expected, this wasn’t it. It was clear that she despised him then why on earth did she want him anywhere near her sister?

“I…would be delighted” he said at last. His not to ask but to do. After all she had just granted him his request. “Your sister is very skilled and it would be a pleasure to train her”

She took no notice of the compliment.

“You will do so in the sparring pit which lies to the north of the castle. There it is” she said, pointing at the small yard from her window. He said nothing. It was obvious that her intent was to keep them under her eye.

“And either Lady Brienne or four Stark soldiers must be present during every session”

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

“My Lord?” She was looking at him with cold contempt. Evidently she thought that he had finally lost his mind.

“I beg your pardon” he choked out “But you do realize that the chances of your sister attacking me is greater than the chances of me attacking her?” he asked incredulously. “Besides what sort of a fool attacks a woman in her own castle with her guards but ten feet away? I might be a miserable excuse of a man in your eyes but surely you cannot think that I am that much of a blockhead”

“My opinion of you is irrelevant my lord. My conditions stand”. The disgusted moue of her mouth told him that he wasn’t going to gain anything by arguing with her. He however couldn’t resist giving voice to the one sentiment he had wanted to convey to her since the day they had returned to this place.

“I fought by your brother’s side” he said slowly. “I risked my life alongside him just like everyone else. I went back with him to King’s Landing and took up arms against my own sister.”  He stopped, breathing heavily only to find her looking at him with cold indifference. The look fuelled the rage that was building up inside him and he was suddenly filled with the urge to shake her until she displayed… _something_. Some sort of emotion. Any sort of emotion.

“I killed the woman I loved with my bare hands” he snarled. He clenched his hands to control their shaking. “I choked the life out of her. _Do you understand what that means_?!”

Her lips curled.

“And now I assist the very people responsible for her downfall, the downfall of my House and you still can’t bring yourself to trust me? Tell me my lady, are you incapable of trust or is it that you suffer from a disease which makes you see enemies everywhere, even where none exist?”

She met his eyes fully, the hard, implacable gaze making the back of his neck tingle unpleasantly.

“Anyone who is not my family is a potential enemy my lord”

He stilled, the rage waning.

“You sister taught me that”

Jaime gave a jerky nod and left.


	9. A banquet-1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and an even bigger one for all your wonderful feedback!

Sansa watched the scene in front of her, torn between disapproval and amusement. While the elegant, dignified banquet she had planned for, keeping in mind her own mother as hostess had devolved into chaos, she couldn’t deny that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Seating arrangements and table manners had been quickly forgotten, the guests had taken it upon themselves to congregate into groups instead of sticking to the seating plan and her beleaguered head cook had been commanded to send in all the courses at once with a special emphasis on the ale. Watching the revelry happening in front of her however, she found that she couldn’t really bring herself to care. Much.

“You are smiling”

She didn’t turn to look at him but instead stared straight ahead, the smile on her face widening. He didn’t need to face her to see her face after all.

Sometimes it almost awed her. This fact that the serene, mystical, omnipotent being sitting next to her was also the little brother she had grown up with and the little brother she still worried over.

“I am happy” she said simply, watching Arya soundly beat the Hound at darts. She grinned at the Hound’s reaction which consisted of a single grunt. “Arya seems to have Ser Clegane wrapped around her finger” she remarked. “If it were anyone else he or she would be flying through the air by now”

“He is letting her win” Bran said quietly, _that_ making her turn to face him, startled. “It should not be a surprise sister, he is very fond of Arya”

She studied the two of them, her eyes noting the rough gentleness with which the Hound treated Arya and the careless kindness which Arya in turn showed him. Not very evident to the casual eye but now that Bran had pointed it out, she couldn’t not see it.

“For all his gruff demeanour he is a good man” she said softly, more to herself than to Bran. “He was one of the very few men who dared protect me in King’s Landing”.

“You seem to be getting on well with the other”

Sansa didn’t answer but her eyes flitted to the corner where the Queen held court with many of her men, all of them appearing almost desperately in love with her. For good reason, Sansa thought with a private smile. Daenerys looked almost ethereally beautiful today, in a gown of purple silk which matched her eyes and evening stars threaded in her hair. Moreover she had discarded the regal, majestic air she assumed for her Council meetings and was now laughing and joking with her knights like any other girl of one and twenty. Even the Lady Brienne appeared to be captivated by the Queen although Sansa noticed that Ser Jaime wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, preferring to moodily stare at the floor instead.

“He is behind the queen, talking to Varys and Bronn” Bran said as Sansa tried to discreetly crane her head in an effort to locate the one person she couldn’t see.

Sansa blushed, although a relieved smile nearly escaped her at the knowledge that Tyrion wasn’t a part of the Queen’s adoring worshippers. In the last six weeks Tyrion had become the person she would escape to, to talk and grumble about the Lords and worry and laugh. She had found out early on that she could tell him anything and if she didn’t, well he had an uncanny knack of figuring it out himself. Sometimes he even took it as a challenge, advancing the most outrageous and salacious theories until her face turned to fire and she finally broke down, giving him what he wanted. The idea that he shared the same bond with someone else was ….ridiculous, because he didn’t.

“Even Jon has come to notice your friendship”

It was as if she had suddenly been thoroughly doused with cold water.

 Jon had noticed? Her brother was the most clueless soul in existence and if he had noticed then everyone else had noticed which meant- “Has there been gossip?” she nearly barked, her voice strained with fear.

_One misstep is all it takes to lose everything you have built. Emotions are a weakness and they should not be entertained._

“Gossip about Lord Tyrion and I?” she asked again, conjuring up a weak imitation of a smile and desperately holding onto the last remnants of her composure. Her power, her position, it was all built on her reputation and it could go away in an instant leaving her alone and vulnerable again.

“Very minimal and silly at that” Bran replied measuredly. “From what I can see, Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys appears to be taking measures to dispel any rumours that may arise. Both of them agree that you shouldn’t be punished for choosing to pursue a purely innocent friendship”

Oh. Sansa sat back, relieved but for some reason unsettled. She was grateful of course to the two of them and naturally any friendship between her and Tyrion Lannister was strictly innocent- She was a Stark, a Lady of the North and he was a Lannister, the Queen’s Hand and widely known as The Imp. He was destined for an advantageous marriage with a fresh, young girl from a strategically located house while she was, by her own decision, to remain unwed and continue to rule her lands. Fortunately there wasn’t much demand for twice married women, past their prime with a reputation for icy coldness. Not even among dwarves with mismatched eyes and half a nose missing. She didn’t want there to be a demand. Marriage was a horror she could no longer contemplate.

Sansa pushed away her plate irritably and scowled. The food clearly wasn’t up to par as it was giving her a sick feeling. Everything else seemed to her to look tired and dull. The flowers she had spent hours over now looked over elaborate and pompous, a good portion of her mother’s best plates were lying in bits on the floor and the vines she had ordered to be twined around the roof boards and the table in an effort to conceal the damage done to them seemed to her to be the silliest idea she had ever had, an idea that should occur to silly thirteen year olds without an idea in their heads not to her, the Lady of Winterfell. She wondered dully, if everyone in the room were mocking her right now.

“A longer face and the wind will fix it that way” Jon said, slipping into the seat next to her. Sansa gave a faint smile of acknowledgement but chose not to reply to his sally. She was tired and could spell a headache beginning. All she wanted was to go up to her room and rest.

Jon however wasn’t done . Nudging her with his elbow, he grinned at Bran before turning his attention back to her. “The most beautiful woman in the Hall should not look so miserable, Sansa”

She snorted. That was the most untruthful statement she had heard Jon make yet.

“You must have injured your eyes in battle, brother. As far as I can see, the most beautiful woman in the room is standing there, holding Little Sam while Ser Tormund attempts to instruct them in the table manners adhered to by the Wildlings”

“He had best find another occupation if he wishes to keep his face unmarked” Bran remarked mildly. “I see Gilly making her way over there, for some reason armed with a ladle”

Both Sansa and Jon burst into laughter at that. Sansa’s own laugh sprung more from the fact that Bran had actually made a joke than at the sight of Gilly Tarly’s furious expression, hilarious though it was, a sentiment she suspected even Jon shared. It was heartening to know that her brother could still make jokes.

“Shouldn’t you be rescuing your Queen, your grace?” an amused voice spoke from Jon’s right. Sansa tensed, the smile dropping from her face. She had missed the new arrival and the realisation that she had been momentarily diverted enough to miss what was happening around her was a terrifying one. Petyr Baelish would have never made such a mistake.

“The Queen is perfectly capable of taking care of herself Gendry and how many times do I have to ask you to drop the ‘your grace’?” Jon said lazily, waving his friend down to a chair. “If a man can’t have his friends call him by his real name then he might as well go back to taking the black”

“They wouldn’t have you now” Gendry grinned. “Something about breaking every rule they had”

Jon chuckled.

“Besides I would cause quite a stir if I started hollering ‘Jon’ across the forge every time you came down to visit in that fancy cloak of yours. One or two of your bannermen might actually die of shock”

Sansa relaxed a little. The boy at least seemed to have some sense, even if Jon didn’t.

“I believe all Jon would have to do then is remind them that Robert Baratheon was a far better friend to our father than some of them”.

Sansa stiffened again while Jon gave his friend a triumphant look.

“It’s Bran, Gendry” Bran went on in his gentle voice. “I prefer a man who held a horde of white walkers off Jon while he could be taken to safety to address me as Bran, not ‘my lord’”

Sansa watched in silence as the boy turned brick red and threaded a hand through his head nervously, mumbling something she couldn’t quite catch. Fortunately for him, Jon decided to take pity on him and jumped in.

“Well that’s settled then. Its Jon, Bran and Sansa from now on, not your boring titles” he said jovially, drawing a supportive smile from Bran.

Sansa said nothing, but stared ahead after giving a tiny bow to the boy.

The lines around Jon’s mouth became more prominent but he chose not to say anything, instead clapping Gendry on the back and dragging him down to the chair. Gendry himself didn’t betray any signs of displeasure of at Sansa’s manner. It was almost as if he had expected it.

“Arya seems to be lying low tonight” he murmured, his direct, bold look softening as he found Arya discussing something intently with the Hound.

“Aye” Jon replied fondly. “Although her choice in companions worries me. She seems to gravitate to rough and ready warriors”

“That’s because the rest of your highborn lords are afraid of her” Gendry remarked, a faint jeering note in his voice.

“And you are not?” Sansa asked coldly, swallowing something sour and acrid when she noticed that Jon had tensed at her question, unconsciously positioning himself in a way that shielded the Gendry boy from her gaze. He hadn’t even bothered to mention, let alone congratulate her on the work she had done to fulfil his Queen’s wishes and now he was defending some blacksmith against her. Gendry however, remained perfectly composed.

“No, my lady” he said smoothly. “I knew her when she was ten and I know her now when she is five and ten and to me, she hasn’t changed. Sure she may have picked up a few new skills on the way but I still see the girl who threatened Thoros of Myr with her Needle when she barely knew how to swing it” he concluded with a wry grin on his face while Jon looked torn between pride, delight and horror. Feelings Sansa could understand although hers leaned more in the direction of horror.

“I would have never given her that sword if I had thought that she would be so stupid” Jon mumbled as he caught sight of her stern look.

“Yes, you would have” she sighed.

A loud shout caused all three of them to turn, only to witness the crowd cheering on the Queen who was laughing and waving a red and black piece of cloth while little Sam bounced in her lap.

“It appears the Queen has offered to give her favour to whosoever wins the Cyvasse tournament” Bran said softly, making Jon groan and Gendry chuckle.

“My lady is much too free with her favours” Jon grumbled.

Sansa watched in amusement as knights and maesters lined up to compete, their eagerness no doubt fuelled by the Queen’s personal charms rather than any love for the game itself. She had to admit, the Queen did look exceptionally beautiful today. The very embodiment of everyone’s conception of a dragon queen.

Sansa watched in fascinated envy as the moonlight suddenly angled over Daenerys , the silver light making her luminesce, causing every man in the room with the exception of Bran to catch his breath. Evidently even the elements were on the Queen’s side tonight.

Blissfully unaware of the effect she was having, the Queen nodded graciously to Lord Cerwyn who was the first challenger. “Good fortune my lord. I am afraid that you will need it as the Crown’s challenger is my friend and Hand, Tyrion Lannister himself”

Her breath caught in her throat. She watched in horrified fury as a protesting, laughing Tyrion was dragged away from his friends by a gleeful crowd and towards the giant Cyvasse board. Her fists clenched as she observed the Queen smirking knowingly at him and receiving a fond, exasperated look in return.

No. She was out of her seat and walking towards the spectacle in an instant, consciously pushing away every voice in her head that was shrieking in horror at what she was about to do.

Tyrion Lannister did not belong to the Queen.


	10. Banquet-2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tipping point for Sansa!

Sansa dragged Tyrion into her bedchamber and slammed the door shut before sliding down the door, taking deep gulping breaths.

She had just done that. She had publicly upset the Queen by requesting a private audience with Tyrion immediately and she hadn’t backed down even when the Queen had initially refused, even with all the men in the Hall staring at them, even knowing that she was endangering everything she had worked so hard for. She had been mad.

It had taken Varys’s intervention for the Queen to agree, although not with a good grace. She forgot what Varys had told them, something about an emergency but she knew that if he hadn’t been there, she would be in a much different situation right now.

“Sansa?”

Sansa didn’t look up. She knew what she would see. An astonished, confused face, the same one she had caught a glimpse of when she had marched up to the Queen and demanded an audience with her Hand in the most ungracious way possible. Her breathing grew even harder.

“Sansa?”

She wanted to snap at him, snarl at him to leave her alone. She could barely think and he wanted answers? Gods show mercy, what had she done?

 

_The gods have no mercy, that’s why they are gods_

 

Sansa clenched her teeth and shook her head wildly. She didn’t need the golden haired bitch’s voice in her head right now. Go away, go away, go away.

 

_Oh, my sweet little dove, what have you done now?_

 

Go away, go away

 

_Have you started to care for my horrid little beast of a brother? Disgusting really, I thought you had standards._

 

_He is not a beast!_

 

_You are talking to yourself, little dove. Never a good sign child, take it from one who knows._

 

“Go away” she sobbed.

“Sansa?”

 

_Sansa._

 

_Please, not you too._

 

_Why little dove, he can be very useful_

 

_Oh Sansa, what have you done?_

 

_Go away!_

 

_I thought I taught you this already little dove, the more people you love, the weaker you become and you will end up doing mad things for them as you just did. How amusing._

 

_Everyone is your enemy Sansa, everyone is your friend. You need to fight them all_

 

She was feeling dizzy, her chest getting tighter and tighter. Air. She needed air.

“Sansa?” the voice was sharper now, more urgent and it sounded unusually frightened. “Sansa, you need to breathe”

 

_Listen to him little dove. Or should you?_

 

“Sansa!”

 

_Why is he helping you Sansa?_

 

“Sansa , listen to me. You need to breathe”

 

_“Remember what I told you, a man with no motive is a man no one suspects_

 

“Breathe Sansa, breathe”

 

_Dear little dove, what will you do now? Alone and friendless, surrounded by strangers and you nearly threw away everything that kept you safe tonight_

 

_The nights must be very long now, little wife. Do you miss me? I told you, I am a part of you now._

 

 “GO AWAY!”

She fell forward into two small but strong hands which held her in an iron grip while she desperately gulped down air, the effort to keep herself from falling into the blackness dimming her vision making her dizzy and nauseous.

“Hush Sansa, there you go, deep breaths, deep breaths”

“I feel sick” she gasped, “Please”

To her horror she realized that one of the hands anchoring her had disappeared and she convulsively clutched at the remaining one. “No” she choked. “Don’t leave. They will come back”

“No, no” the voice soothed. “There, I just needed to get this “

A tin can. Sansa sobbed in gratitude as she scrambled over to it before emptying everything she had in her stomach into the little vessel.

Dimly, she became aware that he was holding her hair and patting her comfortingly on the back. She attempted to express her thanks when a further round of retching took away her power of speech entirely.

 

 

8*******************************************8

 

 

“You must think me a witless fool” Sansa said dully, her head on the bed next to where he had seated himself, while she had despite his objections, curled up on the fur rug. She liked this better. She didn’t need to look down on him and if she moved her head a few inches to the left, it would be in his lap. He smelt of cinnamon and parchment and warm mead and something else she couldn’t identify. Something comforting.

“I promise you Sansa that is the last thing I think of you”

“What then?” she asked, raising her head for a moment to meet his eyes. “What is it that Tyrion Lannister thinks of me, the Lady of Winterfell”

“I think the Lady of Winterfell is a noble lady, kind and good to her people and a very accomplished and clever woman”

She laid her head down again. His answer should have pleased her but it only added to the cold, heavy weight in her stomach.

“I think _you_ are very scared and very tired girl who is not getting enough sleep”

It didn’t surprise her. He always saw too much after all.

“What are you scared of Sansa?” he asked after a beat, his hand coming forward to tentatively rest on her head.

“Everyone. No one”. She gave a shaky laugh. “Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend” she quoted, “One of the cleverest men in the country who also ruined my life, taught me the way to live. In return I had his throat slashed”

“I would call that a way to continue existing rather than living” Tyrion said quietly, making her frown.

“They all survived didn’t they?” Sansa asked dryly “They all lived for a long time, long after men more honourable than them, men better than them died”

“Perhaps” he said, his hand gently moving back and forth over her head. She stifled an urge to ask him to open her braids and let her hair fall loose. “But at what cost? Did they enjoy the life they had carved out till then?”

She was silent. She remembered Cersei’s haunted eyes, the eager expression on Littlefinger’s face when he had dreamt of the Iron throne. Always plotting, always planning. Never stopping.

“If I don’t play, I will become but a pawn to be sacrificed at someone’s will”

“If you play all the time with everyone, you will only end up defeating yourself”

“How do I know who to play with then? Everyone I have ever known since the time my father died have always played against me”

“I didn’t”

“You were an exception”

“There were others too”

“Very few”

“But there were some”

“How do I know who the exceptions are my lord?”

It was his turn to fall silent. Minutes ticked by as he searched for an answer while she continued to lay her head on the bed, closing her eyes and savouring the feel of his hand on her head.

“Sometimes” he finally said hesitantly “Sometimes one must take a leap of faith”

She stilled. Raising her head, she looked him fully in the eye and gave him her answer calmly. “I made one once my lord. I ended up on the floor with my skirts pushed up, three rabid dogs tied up a foot away ,while an animal rutted into me from behind, enjoying the blood that spilled from in between my legs because of his attentions”.

It was the pity, she decided. The horror, the rage and the revulsion she could see on his face, she could handle. The pity however, made her eyes sting and she was filled with the urge to bury her head in his lap and cry her heart out.

That would never do. He had already dealt with her crying once, he didn’t need a repeat performance.

“I missed you at times” she confessed with a weak smile. “There were times when I almost longed to be your wife again. Cersei would have been furious”

He smiled absently although the stern look didn’t leave his face. “I missed you too” he said softly “During the trial, I kept thinking of you, hoping you were safe and well”

“And instead I ended up here, sold by the man I trusted to be Ramsey Bolton’s latest amusement” she said bitterly. “Your sister was right when she called me a stupid little girl”

Tyrion drew in a deep breath.

“Cersei was a bitch and everything she said to you was a product of her own jealousy and frustration” he snapped, making her breath catch. Experience had conditioned her to react badly to sudden raised male voices.

“I am sorry” he said immediately, his voice contrite. “That was inexcusable. But what I said is true and you need to remember that. Everything Cersei told you are lessons you need to forget”

She remained silent. He resumed stroking her head.

“Do you know what the worst thing was, that he did to me?” she asked after a time. She could feel him tense but he didn’t answer.

“He ruined Winterfell for me”

“Sansa-“

“My home. I had dreamt of it for so long. I survived in King’s Landing because I dreamt of coming home. I survived in the Eyrie because I dreamt of coming home. And then when I finally came home, he destroyed me in it. I _hated_ him for that”

“He is not here anymore”

She laughed, a wild, hysterical laugh.“Oh but he is my lord. I set his own dogs on him and watched them devour his body, yet he still comes to me at night and takes his pleasure, tormenting me even after death”

“He is not here”. The words were spoken firmly and the finality in them made Sansa look up at him surprised. Tyrion’s eyes met hers, as hard as stone. “You are safe now” he said again, “You are safe with me.”

Sansa Stark stared at this man, this little man who had been the only one big enough to put an end to her daily beatings in King’s landing, the only one who had kept his promises to her and the only one who had cared for what she thought.

“Petyr Baelish was the last man to say that to me” she said slowly, watching his eyes darken. “I didn’t believe him but I do believe you my lord”

The tense look disappeared and was replaced by a small, grim smile. “I am honoured my lady. I promise you, I will protect-“

“No” she cut him off, her mouth trembling “Not that my lord. We both know no one can truly protect me except myself. I would- I would rather not hear such promises from you. You have always done everything you promised me you would do and I…I don’t want to hear a false promise from you”

He nodded although the look in his eyes made it abundantly clear that he disagreed. She was glad he didn’t argue the point like Jon would have. She was too tired to argue tonight.

“Why tonight?”

She didn’t pretend to not know what he was talking about. It wouldn’t have worked with him anyway.

“I don’t know” she said after a pause. Another laugh escaped her. “I-you are my island “

“Island?”

Her face was turning red again.

“I trust you” she found herself gasping, “With everything. You are the only one who understands. When I am with you- I don’t have any other voices in my head except my own” Sansa winced. If it were anyone else, they would be sending for the Maester by now especially considering the fact that her aunt had been touched in the head.

“And?”

She could have emptied the can of vomit over his head. He was clinging on to the subject like a limpet.

“And I didn’t want someone else to take you away” she said sullenly, every part of her on fire. She devoutly hoped that the walls didn’t have ears because she wouldn’t be able to set a foot in her own castle if this got about.

“You thought the Queen would take me away from you?” Now his voice was amused, teasing.

She turned her head to bury her face into the warm blanket. If she waited long enough, he would leave.

“Sansa”

She kept her head down.

“I am _your_ island”

A slow, beaming smile spread across her face.

“Nothing and no one will ever change that”


	11. Maid of Tarth vs Kingslayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and an even bigger one for all your reviews and encouragement!

Brienne of Tarth was no fool. She might suffer from an excess of honour according to _some_ people of questionable sense but she knew what was what and what was happening now was that The Hand of the Queen was pursuing her lady and forcing his attentions on her.

“No”

She cast a fulminating look at the man standing, well slouching next to her, one leg braced against the rough stone wall behind him. They were both standing in a corner of the large dining hall, having swallowed down their portions of the stew as soon as it had arrived. Most of the assembled had already finished their lunch and ambled off to laze the afternoon away leaving behind only a few stragglers who evidently preferred their food cold and inedible. Lady Sansa had remained, so had a few Wildlings, Ser Berric and the Tarlys who were engaging in a losing battle with their defiant offspring on the propriety of eating lunch rather than using it as finger paint. However Brienne had eyes only for Lord Tyrion. _He_ had not only appropriated the place next to Lady Sansa, he had also spent the entirety of lunch teasing her and monopolizing her conversation. Gods did the man have no manners?

The figure next to her let out a long suffering sigh.

“Stop”

“Stop what?” she snapped, her hand going to her sword as soon as she saw Lord Tyrion reach up to brush back a strand of Lady Sansa’s hair.

“Stop thinking what you are thinking”

“And what am I thinking my lord?” she asked with chilling sarcasm, her fury growing as his smirk only widened. She had lost count of how many times she had berated herself over letting him get under her skin but it was of no use. Jaime Lannister was the one man she could not cow, browbeat or terrify into running away. He on the other hand, possessed positively a gift for unsettling her.

“You are thinking that my brother is attempting to seduce your precious Lady Sansa” he said coolly as Brienne spluttered. Seduce? She needed to do something immediately.

“That is entirely false”

Brienne relaxed a little. After all Ser Jaime was an honourable man who was also very close to his brother and he would not lie about such a matter.

“It is the opposite actually”

“WHAT?!!!!”

The unsightly red splotches made its way back to her face as she was suddenly confronted with a bunch of visibly confused faces.

“I…It’s a …cough, I coughed my lords, I …apologies” she stammered, an awkward smile fixed firmly on her face while her hands balled into fists at the sound of her companion’s muffled snorts.

“This is all your fault” she hissed, dragging him back into the shadows while he doubled over with laughter. At her expense. Oh what she wouldn’t give to be able to drag him out into the yard and beat that stupid smirk off his face.

“I don’t own your mouth wench” he drawled out when he regained his breath, settling himself comfortably into a dusty old chair which stood in the corner. “Although-“his eyes flitted down to her lips, lingering on them with an expression which inexplicably made her heart pound faster. She shifted uncomfortably under the heat of his gaze, feeling hot, cold, embarrassed yet strangely happy, all at the same time. Maiden, please let her not be having her moon blood right now.

“Explain yourself”. She blurted hastily suddenly finding herself unable to handle his look anymore. She just couldn’t stand there and have him look at her like that. As if she was something …desirable. She wasn’t, she was Brienne the _Beauty_ and she was never going down that road again. Two heartbreaks had taught her that nothing lay down there except more misery and humiliation.

He must possess the ability to read her mind, she thought grumpily, because just like before he seemed to understand what she was thinking. Moving his eyes upwards and with amusement layering his drawl he asked“And what is it that I should explain wench?”

“What you said about Lady Sansa!”

Jaime immediately assumed an innocent, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth look although his eyes danced with glee making her long to bare her teeth at him. All the time she had been spending with the Starks must have imbued her with wolfish tendencies.

“Why wench, all I said was that your perfect Lady is currently attempting to entice my little brother into her clutches”

That was it. “Apologize”

“For what, speaking the truth?” he drawled.

“That is not the truth” Brienne stuttered, unable to find words to explain how wrong he was. Her lady was beautiful and calm and gracious and-

“And likes my brother” he observed sweetly making her let go of the reins that had been keeping a check on her temper.

“Stop that!” she hissed, her face bright red with the effort to keep herself from yelling. He was openly laughing again and the sight both enraged and entranced her. Why the gods had decided to bless this insufferable man with such a beautiful face she would never know.

“Stop what?” he asked again, his face the picture of boyish glee. I hate you, she thought miserably.

“Reading my mind” she said, enunciating each word so that she might drum it into his thick head that she did not appreciate having her questions answered even before she voiced them. She didn’t like it, she didn’t like it, she definitely didn’t like it and that was the end of that discussion.

“I can’t help it wench, your face unfortunately mirrors everything you think” he answered cockily, giving her the smirk most calculated to get her back up. For a short second she wished she could throw both him and his idiot brother to the dragons for their breakfast.

“Wouldn’t work, they like Tyrion”

“Stop that!”

He chuckled but thankfully let it go. She for her part tried to compose her thoughts so that she could have a rational discussion with this man about the extreme impropriety of what he was suggesting.

“He is good for her”

Naturally he upstaged her.

“She does not like him….well at least that way”. That earned her another snort.

“Your lady has taken to breaking her fast with him, spends most of her evenings holed up in that library with him and gravitates to him every time we are all forced by our Queen to ‘celebrate’ together but yes, I am sure her interest is purely professional”

“Well-well _your_ brother has taken to waking up early just so he can break his fast with her, he spends more time on the Northern rebuilding than on the Southern division of lands and-and...I heard my lord Varys remark to Ser Seaworth that he has even started to decrease the amount of wine he drinks because Lady Sansa doesn’t approve of him drinking so much!”

“Good grief, he is even far gone than I thought” Jaime remarked disgusted, causing Brienne to gape at him.

“Are you implying that my lady isn’t good enough for _your_ brother?” She glared at him when he remained silent, his eyes meeting hers defiantly.

“No offence to your lady” he finally said tiredly, “But my brother has been through a lot and is in need of comfort and affection, not a frigid ice maiden”

“Offence taken” she snapped back, determined to teach the pighead in front of her a lesson. ” _My_ lady has suffered horrors you cannot even imagine and she does not need the Imp, the man she was forced to marry when she was your sister’s prisoner to force his attentions on her now”

“In case you haven’t been noticing no one’s forcing anything on her and besides my brother was probably the only one that showed her any kindness in King’s landing”

“Your brother was also adviser to the very people who were making her suffer for her brother’s victories”

“My brother is also the one who helped _her_ idiot brother and his Targaryen queen to win the war and restore peace”

“My lady took back Winterfell on her own without either your brother’s or the Queen’s help and she is perfectly capable of holding on to it on her own “

“Yes I am sure she would have frozen Cersei’s armies with that cold look of hers. Tell me what does it say when the only time I have seen her laugh is when she is talking to Tyrion?”

“Your brother’s inappropriate jokes can be responded to only with a laugh or a snub my lord and my lady is far too kind to snub him”

“Did Lady Sansa’s knight just admit that she has a taste for bawdy jokes?”

“What?! No-you-“

“Lady Sansa luuurves filthy jokes, Lady Sansa has a filthy mi-“

Jaime ducked to avoid the hand aimed at his cheek and in a quick deft move tangled his legs with hers to the effect that he was suddenly holding a furious, large armful in his lap.

“You presumptuous, insufferable, conceited, smug-“

A hand across her mouth silenced whatever further adjectives she had for his character and he looked at her furious blue eyes with exasperated amusement. The woman was loyal to a fault.

“I truly didn’t mean to insult your lady wench, I just don’t believe that she would suit my brother. Tyrion’s tastes have always run towards more…experienced women. The last woman he loved was a whore”

The red spread at that causing him to stare at her in fascination. Like everything about her, her blush too was an ugly, awkward thing, blotchy and a vivid fiery red which clashed with her hair and eyes. And like everything about her, it too made him oddly happy. His eyes shuttered at the thought and he suddenly pushed forward in an attempt to get away from her

“Ser Jaime?” her voice sounded worried which only made everything he was feeling worsen ten times. Desperately trying to put some distance between them, he stumbled out of the chair and moved to stand opposite her.

“Its nothing” he gritted out, hoping against hope that she would let this go. “Just- silly” he said again with an awkward laugh, “Here we are fighting on their behalf while they seem perfectly content in each other’s company”. He tilted his head at the table to illustrate his point and watched greedily as Brienne’s face softened at the sight, her eyes growing impossibly tender. Brienne of Tarth might be no beauty but he dared the world to show him a more enchanting pair of eyes and a more loyal, dearer person to have them. Tasting ash, he turned to look at whatever was holding her attention.

Sansa Stark was currently bouncing little Samwell Tarly and laughing along with the babe as Tyrion blew raspberries into the little boy’s stomach while his mother sneakily snuck mash into her offspring’s mouth every time he opened his mouth to giggle. He had apparently exhausted his own father for Maester Tarly was now spread out on the floor with his eyes closed, groaning while Ser Berric patted his prone figure with the toe of his boot.

It was naught but a simple domestic scene which he knew must be playing out in dozens of households across the kingdom but for some reason, looking at the small group of people in front of him made him almost absurdly glad. This was what peace looked like, he realised. This laughing over a babe’s antics, the joy of enjoying a good meal with your friends and family, the comfort of home and a fire in the hearth. This was it. Perhaps all the fighting and the suffering had been worth it, after all.

“They look so happy “Brienne whispered, looking oddly pretty as she did so. He nodded in agreement although his attention had returned to studying her. The Lady of Tarth only rarely displayed her unguarded self and such moments were to be cherished.

“Perhaps you were right” she said finally, her eyes still lingering on the babe who had by now finished his lunch and was chomping on a laughing Lady Stark’s red tresses. “Your brother is the only one who can make her laugh now”

“And she is the only one who can chase the shadows away from his eyes” he noted as he observed Tyrion chuckling while trying to pry the aggressive warrior away from his lady’s hair. ”Besides I don’t think we have any say in this matter my lady. Lady Sansa clearly demonstrated that the night of the banquet when she literally dragged my poor brother away”

Brienne frowned. “There was a fire at the forge” she said only to receive a look of exasperated pity from her companion who was torn between wanting to throttle the woman and wanting to tuck her away, swaddled in cotton wool.

“You are probably the only person in this country who believes Varys’s lies anymore” he said with mock sadness before striding away to join his brother, leaving behind a very puzzled Brienne of Tarth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was basically a filler chapter. The next chapters will deal with Sansa and the problems she has with Jon and Arya and Daenerys interspersed with her growing relationship with Tyrion. Spoiler alert, they end up resolving these issues at the the end of this fic :D


	12. Complaints,quarrels and confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams! This will be my last update for quite some time, at least until the end of November I think.I will therefore begin the chapter with my most sincere apology for the future delay in updates.  
> Thank you to all of you AMAZING people who have been reading and reviewing and overall being saints of the first degree. Your reviews and comments mean so much to me. :D

Sansa snuggled into the furs covering the pallet and stared outside the window, frowning. According to everything and everyone she knew, winter should be coming to an end now and the squirrel-cups she had found blooming amidst a tangle of weeds had only upheld that belief. Yet here they were, watching snow fall faster and faster until she had been forced to call a halt to all outdoor repairs and tell the men to go home.

“It looks like it’s going to be a proper storm” she said slowly, turning to face Tyrion who was scowling at a scroll. “We might end up being snowed in”

He growled in response, the lines on his face deepening. “Excellent” he grumbled, “That is just what we need right now. Not only do we have a band of raiders out there, terrorizing our people, we now have to put a halt to all of our work. It is as if the Gods are determined to make me suffer”

“Another incident?” she asked idly watching the snow carpet the brown yard, plop by plop. It was bothersome, it was ill-timed, but there was a strange stark beauty to the feathery white expanse which cloaked everything in sight and was turning even the humblest of entities into something magical. She regarded the spire on the watchtower critically, letting out a sigh as the last remaining part slowly disappeared from view, helpless to withstand the merciless, unrelenting attack of the storm. Winter. Bleak, harsh and ruthless but also beautiful in its savage wildness.

“I am beginning to think that when Starks say ‘winter is coming’, they mean it more as a harbinger of good news than a warning”

Sansa looked up to find Tyrion watching her with an amused look in his eyes. Evidently he had been privy to her reverie.

“We are not like those in the South my lord, who are unable to withstand a little snow and rain before they start weeping for the golden sun” she retorted saucily, her eyes twinkling.

“Ah but the sun is much kinder to its worshippers than the cold is to its devotees my lady. For instance the sun never causes..er – performance issues”

Sansa nearly groaned as his meaning sunk in whilst simultaneously struggling to keep a stern look on her face. Something she was apparently failing in because Tyrion merely leaned back in his chair, whistling nonchalantly while his eyes danced at her.

“Do you have to turn everything into a bawdy joke?” she asked crossly, striving to glare at her smirking companion. However he remained proudly unrepentant, the wicked smile only widening at the sight of her flustered face.

“To quote Cersei, I am a lustful little beast my dear and you had better get used to my dirty jokes”

Sansa grinned. Miracles would never cease and Cersei being right was assuredly a miracle. The thought that mentions of Cersei no longer unsettled her flitted through her mind and the realisation gladdened a small, long buried part of her.

“Well she was wrong when she called you a ‘beast’” she spoke idly, still dwelling on the implications of her newfound knowledge. Perhaps she would be free of her past one day, something she had hitherto considered to be an impossible dream.

“I beg your pardon?”

She blinked and looked up to face Tyrion who had huddled into his chair, his eyes fixed on her with a curious look in them. However he continued to speak in the same light, jesting tone.

“I could be wrong but I believe that Lady Sansa Stark just implied that she doesn’t consider me to be a beast?” he drawled, one finger tapping out a staccato rhythm on the desk. She blinked again. “You heard right my lord”

The tapping continued. She had discovered that he did that a lot, especially when he was deep in thought. It was silly but Sansa cherished that little bit of knowledge. Daenerys Targaryen didn’t know that Tyrion Lannister had that particular habit. She did. It was her secret to have and to hold.

 

Tyrion snorted. Gesturing to himself he asked lazily “And what part of my gloriously proportioned body refutes the epithet ‘beast’ Sansa?”

“All of it” she snapped, her previous good mood rapidly dissipating. There were times when she could happily shake this man till his teeth rattled.

“I recall meeting a young lady who was repulsed by the very sight of me in King’s Landing” he retorted, a bitter smile twisting his lips.

“And if you had a modicum of sense, you would have realised that the young lady in addition to being an immensely foolish young girl, was also terrified of everyone in King’s Landing especially the ones who bore the name Lannister. With good reason I might add” she replied icily, causing his gaze to shift to the floor, a long familiar guilt springing up in them.

No. She didn’t want guilt. She had made mistakes, he had made mistakes, she was _tired_ of rehashing the past. She was tired of being trapped in this prison that she had created for herself and for the first time in an age she wished to forget all that had happened and look to the future.

“You are no Knight of Flowers my lord” Sansa said softly causing him to chuckle. “I should hope not” he replied, waggling his eyebrows at her making her suppress a smile.

“However looking at your face now gives me far more pleasure than Ser Loras’s ever did” she finished, studiously avoiding his eyes.

The rugs were getting threadbare she thought as the silence stretched on. She should instruct some maids to start working on some new ones. Perhaps a pattern of green and black interspersed with gold…

“I am honoured”

A smile tugged at her lips.

“I am also deeply concerned for your eyesight”

That earned him a glare. A real one although judging by the laugh lines around his eyes, her efforts at intimidation were pathetic. She soldiered on however, her eyes lingering over the lines on his face, the scarred nose, the wild mane of hair and the firm mouth. By no means could he ever be considered handsome and yet- yet there was something about him that caused a swooping feeling in her stomach and set her skin tingling.

“You should let me cut your hair my lord” she said hurriedly causing him to lift a hand to the tangled nest atop his head ruefully.

“Too much?”

“Excessively so” she replied firmly.

“Very well” he sighed. “However before you do that, I demand to know what it was that you were thinking of when you were staring outside the window”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Demand?”

He grinned. “Request”

Her lips twitched, however she chose to relent. The storm had effectively brought all work to a halt and this was the first time in weeks that they had both found themselves at leisure. A fire roared in the corner making the little room warm and cosy and she was tempted to pour out everything that had been niggling at her for the past few weeks to the one person she knew would understand her worries.

“It’s Arya” she blurted, relief flooding her at the prospect of unburdening herself. “Not only does she take little to no part in the daily events, I find her almost always up at the parapets, gazing South”

“Ah”

His eyes met hers and her own heart lightened at the sight of the understanding look on his face. He knew what she feared.

“What does she do when she is not er- stargazing?”

Sansa’s face darkened. “She seems to have developed an unholy interest in the workings of our forge” she replied tightly.

“You seem disappointed” he observed in a tone that set her hackles up. Gods, did he too share Jon’s opinions on Arya’s overly friendly relationship with the blacksmith?

“My sister is a Stark of Winterfell” Sansa stated coldly, “I happen to think that she could find more congenial company than smiths”

Strangely enough Tyrion didn’t appear offended. However he had the same look in his eyes, the one that he and Daenerys had worn the day she welcomed them to Winterfell. It was a look that had unsettled her then and it unsettled her now. A look that made her feel as if they were all privy to some secret that she didn’t know. Only this time he seemed more amused than sad.

“Company like Glover’s son?” he asked sardonically making a bitter knot in her chest tighten. But five minutes ago they had been enjoying the peace of a winter evening and now she felt oddly uncomfortable and on edge. He was supposed to be on _her side_.

“Naturally I will be rejecting Lord Glover’s proposal when he formally makes it in Council tomorrow” she said, assuming the bland, pleasant tone she used during the Council meetings. “That he approached me in private before doing so is hardly my fault”. She swallowed, aware of a disagreeable taste in the back of her throat.

“Does Jon know of this?” Tyrion asked her, his suddenly serious eyes an odd contrast to the otherwise gentle expression on his face.

“Lord Glover thought and rightly that it would be better to approach me with something like this rather than Jon” Sansa replied angrily. What right did he have to make her feel so-so…embarrassed? She had done nothing wrong! “Jon wouldn’t have reacted well and you know it”

“Perhaps” Tyrion replied, an inscrutable look on his face. “However my Lord Glover’s actions can also be seen as an attempt to undermine the King’s authority and you do Jon no favours by encouraging that attitude. Besides if he had talked it over with Jon, perhaps the matter wouldn’t even have reached the Council chamber”

Seething, Sansa opened her mouth to deliver a rejoinder but was cut off by his next words.

“Which is something I think you deliberately encouraged, to gauge the reactions of the Northern Lords” he finished. His face remained impassive but a closer look showed tiny frown lines emerging between his eyebrows.

“And what if I did?” Sansa snapped “Aren’t you the one who believes in being aware of the intentions of every single person around us?”

“Yes but you do your brother and sister a disservice by taking such a decision without consulting them” he replied patiently which only fanned the flames of her anger.

“Who pray should I consult?” Sansa asked bitterly, scarcely aware that her hands had formed two clenched fists. Anger she could handle but hurt, hurt she was unprepared to deal with. Tyrion Lannister was supposed to be on her side. She was the Lady of Winterfell and she could do whatever she pleased without having to seek _permission_.

“The sister who contributes nothing to running Winterfell and our lands or the brother who spends half his time working with the men when he should be chairing the Council and whiles the other half away with his Queen?

“You know that is unfair” Tyrion replied gently. “Jon might not work in the same way you do but he does work hard to restore the North to its former glory. But as King, he has a great many responsibilities to the realm and he might not be able to give as much of his attention to Winterfell and the Stark holdings”

“Yes and why pray should he when I do all the work for him while he reaps all the benefits” she flashed at him, ready and willing to do battle. Unfortunately he chose not to reply and instead turned his attention to pouring himself a glass of wine. Men. All they did was drink and fight.

“I won Winterfell back” she said after a moment, her voice trembling. “Jon didn’t. Arya didn’t. _I did_ ”

He nodded although there was a hesitant look in his eyes.

“ _I_ helped Jon become King of the North. And at the very first opportunity he got, he squandered it by pledging allegiance to your Queen”

“Some might say he was protecting his people” Tyrion replied dryly. “It is hard to fight against a woman who commands dragons”

Sansa scoffed. Jon had fallen in love with Daenerys and promptly forgotten everything else. He had always been overly emotional and she had no hesitation in saying so right now.

Tyrion hesitated. She felt raw and twitchy at the way he was looking at her, as if he strongly wished to tell her something but was uncertain of her ability to hear it. Ridiculous. She was the Lady of Winterfell and she could handle anything.

“Jon is a good king” he said finally.

She didn’t reply. She was angry, she was upset, she was oddly hurt and worst of all she could not pinpoint a reason as to why she was feeling the way she was feeling.

“Your Queen dislikes me” she snapped finally. It was the truth. Ever since the banquet Daenerys had treated her with perfect politeness but there was a curtness to her behaviour that left Sansa in no doubt as to the Queen’s real feelings. The last time Sansa had declared something during the small Council meetings, the Queen’s nostrils had flared for an instant and it was only after Jon had leaned in and whispered something in her ear that the furrow on her brow had disappeared.

Tyrion remained silent although the odd look deepened.

“Well? Isn’t Jon supposed to smooth that over?”

At that the troubled look vanished from his face and an impish smile took its place. “I don’t think Jon possesses the ability to think much around his Queen. Your brother redefines the word ’besotted’ ” Tyrion remarked, the smile lightening his features. Sansa shifted a little. It was fanciful in the extreme but there were times when he looked extraordinarily attractive to her.

“They are a very devoted pair” she admitted grudgingly. “I believe the housemaids avoid walking near their apartments at night because of the- noise”. Sansa closed her eyes. What on earth had possessed her to come out with that piece of information? Aware that she was even redder than the glowing embers of the fire, she kept her eyes tightly closed.

“No!” Tyrion gave a faux gasp, drawing a reluctant smile from her. “A husband and wife who enjoy the marital bed? The world truly has changed!”

“Hush” she reprimanded him although she couldn’t help smiling back. He had the uncanny ability to calm her down, even when she was in the worst of moods. “We shouldn’t be discussing them like this. Although-“her eyes danced and she decided to take the plunge. It was Tyrion after all. “From what I hear, it’s not just the bed they enjoy”

The wine slopped down Tyrion’s shirt as he shook with laughter both at his newly acquired knowledge and her own fiery face. She had to laugh too, at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. How do you advise your monarch to confine their activities to their room?

“It is funny” she admitted reluctantly when they had both finished laughing “Although I truly do not understand why people enjoy-well enjoy..it” she finished, blushing again.

His eyes warmed as they rested on her flushed, awkward face.

“It can be quite pleasurable” he said gently. “With the right…person,well-that is..you might …enjoy it”

She watched in amusement as he trailed off, waving his hands around aimlessly in an attempt to convey what he meant. Watching him disconcerted was a nice change of pace, it was usually the other way around.

“I don’t see how it can be” she said truthfully, her mind going over every instance a man had shown her that he desired her. Ramsay, Littlefinger, King’s Landing. Even Joffrey, although he had seen her more as an animal to torture than as a woman to defile.

“It is “

The abrupt, grim note in Tyrion’s voice made her look at him in surprise.

“It can be” he insisted, his eyes holding hers steadily. ”The past- it should not ruin your dreams for the future”

She stared at him, nonplussed. For some reason he sounded harsh and stern. The firelight, while making his burnished curls gleam, threw his face into shadow however she could feel his eyes fixed on her, an uncharacteristically steely look in them.

The devil must have possessed her in that moment because she found herself saying “Show me then”

The cup fell to the floor with a loud clatter, the wine forming a deep, dull pool of red on the stone floor. A colour that must have matched the stain on her cheeks as she gazed, horrified at Tyrion Lannister’s dumbfounded face.

“I-I didn’t-“ Floundering in a morass of her own making, Sansa desperately searched for words in order to make sense of what she had just said before giving up. There was really nothing she could say or do and even she didn’t know what she had been asking for.

“Sansa?” he asked in a high nervous voice, quite unlike his usual resonant tones. Small comfort that she had discomposed him just as much as she had discomposed herself although it did nothing to help her get out of this horrifying situation. First the fight over Jon and now this. She hated herself.

“Sansa”. His voice was deeper now and…closer. Startled, she looked up to find him standing in front of her, one hand waving at her face in an attempt to gain her attention. He was smiling again, albeit hesitantly, she realised with relief. She refused to tolerate awkwardness with Tyrion. Her answering smile was wide enough to both make her feel as if her cheeks were splitting apart and to startle him into taking a step backwards. Perhaps she should attempt to smile more like a human being and less like a direwolf about to feast on its prey.

“I didn’t mean-“

“I know”

Of course he did. He knew everything.

“I assure you, I was thinking about your future with the handsome knight of your choosing when I said that, not mocking our doomed marriage” he said gently.

He knew nothing.

Despite a strong desire to scream, she found herself leaning forward to steady him as he nearly stumbled on the fallen cup only to realize that she had manoeuvred herself into a position that left her face only inches away from his own. From the way in which he had stiffened below her grip, she was certain that he had recognized that too.

Sansa had never realized that silence could be so resounding. Not a word was said and yet everything was louder a thousand times. She could hear her own pounding heartbeat, the crackle of the fire, the howling of the wind, the pattering of the snow against the window panes and his quickened breath echoing in her ears, each sound deafening in its own right but as distinct from each other as if she were hearing them separately. Her own breathing however , was drowned out by the drumming in her ears and chest and yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away from two glowing orbs, one black and one green and both of which were doing strange, unsettling things to her body .

“Sansa” he whispered again making her realize that his lips were only a tiny movement away from her own. The air hung heavy in that tiny little space and she could feel herself leaning in, needing to close that gap and yet it was too much, too much, everything was suddenly too much and she needed to leave, she needed to get out of there and go somewhere else where she could just _think_.

“I must go” she cried, standing up so suddenly that she nearly sent him sprawling backwards.

“I- I have work to do my lord, I must- must leave. Apologies” she stammered, nearly rushing out of the room as he stood and watched her leave with hooded eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically meant to set the stage for the showdowns in the future or rather the next chapters. Sansa thinks she has moved on but she is going to have that belief challenged soon because instead of confronting her fears, she has merely dismissed them . Similarly Jon is going to be adjusting to some realities, so will Daenerys while Arya will continue to be Arya.  
> If this works out as planned however, the last chapter will have a GROUP HUG! A treat for making you guys suffer through fights and power plays and long conversations :D  
> Also er-chapter count increased to 24. Sorry!  
> I promise you this is the last alteration. Every character in this fic suddenly wants a chapter dammit- these imaginary GOT spoiled brats!


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